km- 


I  THEOLOGICAL  SliMINARV.I 

|j    Princeton,  r%.   1  — || 


BX  5037    .B87  18A4 
Butler,   Joseph,  1692-1752 
The  works  of  the  Right 
Reverend  Father  in  God, 


I 

L 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
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THE 


WORKS 


OF  THE 


RIGHT  REVEREND  FATHER  IN  GOD, 

JOSEPH  Sutler,  d.c.l. 

LATE 

LORD  BISHOP  OF  DURHAM. 


Ejus  [Analogic]  haec  vis  est,  ut  id  quod  dubium  est  ad  aliquid  simile,  de  quo  non  qusDiitur, 
referat  ut  incerta  certis  probet.— Quixtil.  1.  i.  c.  6. 


TO  WHICH  IS  PREFIXED 


AN  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  CHARACTER  AND  WRITINGS  OF  THE  AUTHOR, 

BY  SAMUEL  HALIFAX,  D.D. 

LATE  LORD  BISHOP  OF  GLOUCESTER. 


NEW  YORK: 
ROBERT  CARTER  58  CANAL  STREET, 
AND  PITTSBURG,  58  MARKET  STREET. 


1845. 


THE 

ANALOGY  OF  RELIGION, 

NATURAL  AND  REVEALED 

TO  THE 

CONSTITUTION  AND  COURSE  OF  NATURE, 

TO  WHICH  ARE  ADDED, 

TWO  BRIEF  DISSERTATIONS : 

L  ON  PERSONAL  [DENTITY.— U.  ON  THE  NATURE  OF  VIRTUE. 
BY 

JOSEPH  BUTLER,  D.C.L 

LATE   LORD  BISHOP  OF  DURHAM. 

Ejus  [Analogiac]  bsec  vis  est,  ut  id  quod  dubium  «.st  ad  aliquid  simile,  de  quo  non  queritur, 
referat  ut  incerta  certis  probet.— Q,uintil.  1.  i.  c  G. 


WITH 

AN  ACCOUNT  OF  THE  CHARACTER  AND  WRITINGS  OF  THE  AUTHOR, 

BY  SAMUEL  HALIFAX,  D.D. 

LATE  LORD  BISHOP  OF  GLOUCESTER. 


NEW  YORK: 
lUMiERT  CARTER  58  CANAL  STREET, 
AND  PITTSBURG,  58  MARKET  STREET. 


1845. 


ADVERTISEMENT 


PREFIXED  TO  THE  FIRST  EDITION. 


[f  the  reader  should  meet  here  with  any  thing  which  he 
tiad  not  before  attended  to,  it  will  not  be  in  the  observa- 
tions upon  the  constitution  and  course  of  nature,  these 
being  all  obvious ;  but  in  the  application  of  them :  in 
which,  though  there  is  nothing  but  what  appears  to  me 
of  some  real  weight,  and  therefore  of  great  importance ; 
yet  he  will  observe  several  things,  which  will  appear  to 
him  of  very  little,  if  he  can  think  things  to  be  of  little 
importance,  which  are  of  any  real  weight  at  all,  upon 
such  a  subject  as  religion.  However,  the  proper  force 
of  the  following  Treatise  lies  in  the  whole  general  analogy 
considered  together. 

It  is  come,  I  know  not  how,  to  be  taken  for  granted, 
by  many  persons,  that  Christianity  is  not  so  much  as  a 
subject  of  inquiry ;  but  that  it  is,  now  at  length,  dis- 
covered to  be  fictitious.  And  accordingly  they  treat  it, 
as  if,  in  the  present  age,  this  were  an  agreed  point  among 
all  people  of  discernment;  and  nothing  remained,  but  to 
set  it  up  as  a  principal  subject  of  mirth  and  ridicule,  as 
it  were  by  way  of  reprisals,  for  its  having  so  long  inter- 
rupted the  pleasures  of  the  world.  On  the  contrary, 
thus  much,  at  least,  will  be  here  found,  not  taken  for 
granted,  but  proved,  that  any  reasonable  man,  who  will 
thoroughly  consider  the  matter,  maybe  as  much  assured, 
as  he  is  of  his  own  being,  that  it  is  not,  however,  so  clear 
a  case,  that  there  is  nothing  in  it.  There  is,  I  think, 
strong  evidence  of  its  truth ;  but  it  is  certain  no  one  can, 
upon  principles  of  reason,  be  satisfied  of  the  contrary. 
And  the  practical  consequence  to  be  drawn  from  this  is 
not  attended  to  by  every  one  who  is  concerned  in  it. 

Hay,  1730. 


f 


CONTENTS. 

INTfiODUCTION   •  48 

PART  I. 

OF  NATURAL  RELIGION. 
Chap.  I. — Of  a  Future  LIfo  57 

Chap.  II. — Of  the  Government  of  God  by  Rewards  and  Punishments; 

and  particularly  of  the  latter  ^  63 

Chap.  III. — Of  the  Moral  Government  of  God    ....  83 

Chap.  IV. — Of  a  State  of  Probation,  as  implying  Trial,  Difficulties, 

and  Danger  105 

Chap.  V. — Of  a  State  of  Probation,  as  intended  for  moral  Disciplin 

and  Improvement  112 

Chap.  VI. — Of  the  Opinion  of  Necessity,  considered  as  influencing 

Practice  .       •       .       .       ,  134 

Chap.  VII. — Of  the  Government  of  God,  considered  as  a  Scheme  or 

Constitution,  imperfectly  comprehended      .       •       ,       .  148 

Conclusion    •       •       ,       •       •      •  •      •       .  158 


TART  II. 

OF  REVEALED  RELIGION. 

Chap.  I. — Of  the  Importance  of  Christianity       ,       .       ,  165 

Chap.  II. — Of  the  supposed  Presumption  against  a  Revelation,  consid- 

eied  as  miraculous    ......*•  181 


vi  CONTENTS. 

Pag:. 

Chap.  III. — Of  our  incapacity  of  judging,  what  were  to  be  expected  m 
a  Revelation;  and  the  Credibility,  from  Analogy,  that  it  must 
contain  Things  appearing  liable  to  Objections      .       .  187 

Chap.  IV. — Of  Christianity,  considered  as  a  Scheme  or  Constitution, 

imperfectly  comprehended         .       .       .       .       .       .  201 

Chap.  V. — Of  the  particular  System  of  Christianity ;  the  Appointment 

of  a  Mediator,  and  the  Redemption  of  the  World  by  him       .  '208 

Chap.  VI. — Of  the  Want  of  Universality  in  Revelation:  and  of  the 

supposed  Deficiency  in  the  Proof  of  it        ,       ,       .       .  225 

Chap.  VII. — Of  the  particular  Evidence  for  Christianity      ,       .  242 

Chap.  VIII. — Of  the  Objections  which  may  be  made  against  arguing 

from  the  Analogy  of  Nature  to  Religion      ,       .       .       ,  275 

Conclusion  •      •       •       •  286 

DissEETATioN  I. — Of  Pcrsonal  Identity     ' .      ,  ^       ;  297 

Dissertation  II.— Of  the  Nature  of  Virtue      •  •      •  ^03 


4 


THE  REVEREND 


DR  THOMAS  BALGUY, 

ARCHDEACON  AND  PREBENDARY  OF  WITTCHESTEH,  &a 


Dear  Sir, 

I  TRUST  you  will  excuse  the  liberty  I  have  taken  of 
prefixing  your  name  to  the  following  sheets;  the  latter 
part  of  which,  I  am  confident,  will  not  be  thought 
undeserving  of  your  approbation;  and  of  the  former  part 
you  will  commend  the  intention  at  least,  if  not  the 
execution.  In  vindicating  the  character  of  Bishop  Butler 
from  the  aspersions  thrown  upon  it  since  his  death,  I 
have  but  discharged  a  common  duty  of  humanity,  which 
survivors  owe  to  those  who  have  deserved  well  of  man- 
kind by  their  lives  or  writings,  when  they  are  past  the 
power  of  appearing  in  their  own  defence.  And  if  what 
I  have  added,  by  way  of  opening  the  general  design  of 
the  Works  of  this  great  Prelate,  be  of  use  in  exciting  the 
younger  class  of  Students  in  our  Universities  to  read,  and 
so  to  read  as  to  understand,  the  Two  Volumes  prepared 
and  pablislied  by  the  Author  himself;  I  flatter  myself  I 
shall  have  done  no  inconsiderable  service  to  Morality 
and  Religion.  Your  time  and  studies  have  been  long 
successfully  devoted  to  the  support  of  the  same  great 
cause:  and  in  what  you  have  lately  given  to  the  world, 
both  as  an  Author  and  an  Editor,  you  have  largely  con- 
tributed to  the  defence  of  our  common  Christianity,  and 
of  what  was  esteemed  by  One,  who  was  perfectly  com- 
petent to  judge,  its  best  Establishment,  the  Church  of 
England.    In  the  present  publication  I  consider  myself 


viii 

« 

as  a  fellow  labourer  with  you  in  the  same  design,  and 
tracing  the  path  you  have  trod  before,  but  at  great 
distance,  and  with  unequal  paces.  When,  by  His 
Majesty's  goodness,  I  was  raised  to  that  station  of 
eminence  in  the  Church,  to  which  you  had  been  first 
named,  and  which,  on  account  of  the  infirmity  of  your 
health,  you  had  desired  to  decline ;  it  was  honour  enough 
for  me  on  such  an  occasion  to  have  been  thought  of  next 
to  you :  and  I  know  of  no  better  rule  by  which  to  govern 
my  conduct,  so  as  not  to  discredit  the  Royal  Hand  which 
conferred  on  me  so  signal  and  unmerited  a  favour,  than 
in  cases  of  difficulty  to  put  the  question  to  myself.  How 
you  would  probably  have  acted  in  the  same  situation. 
You  see.  Sir,  I  still  look  up  to  you,  as  I  have  been  wont, 
both  as  my  Superior  and  my  Example.  That  I  may  long 
reap  the  benefit  of  your  advice  and  friendship;  and  that 
such  a  measure  of  health  and  strength  may  be  continued 
to  you,  as  may  enable  you  to  pass  the  evening  of  your 
days  with  comfort,  and  enjoy  the  blessings  of  the  life  you . 
love ;  is  the  cordial  wish  of. 

Dear  Sir, 

Your  very  affectionate 

and  faithful  Servant, 
S.  GLOUCESTER 

Dartmouth  Street,  Westminster 
12Vi  May,  1780 


PREFACE  BY  THE  EDITOR 


"  When  I  consider  how  light  a  matter  very  often  subjects  the  best  established 
characters  to  the  suspicions  of  posterity,  posterity  often  as  malignant  to  virtue  as 
the  age  that  saw  it  was  envious  of  its  glory ;  and  how  ready  a  remote  age  is  to  catch 
at  a  low  revived  slander,  which  the  times  that  brought  it  forth  saw  despised  and 
forgotten  almost  in  its  birth ;  I  cannot  but  think  it  a  matter  that  deserves  atten- 
tion."— Letter  to  the  Editor  of  the  Letters  on  the  Spirit  of  Patriotisnij  &c.,  by  Bishop 
Warborton.    See  his  Works,  vol.  vii.  p.  547. 

The  Charge  to  the  Clergy  of  the  Diocese  of  Durham 
was  printed  and  pubhshed  in  the  year  1751,  by  the 
learned  Prelate  whose  name  it  bears  ;  and,  together 
with  the  Sermons  and  Analogy  of  the  same  writer,  both 
too  well  known  to  need  a  more  particular  description,, 
completes  the  collection  of  his  Works.  It  has  long 
been  considered  as  a  matter  of  curiosity,  on  account  of 
its  scarceness  ;  and  it  is  equally  curious  on  other  ac- 
counts— its  subject,  and  the  calumny  to  which  it  gave 
occasion,  of  representing  the  Author  as  addicted  to  super- 
stition,  as  inclined  to  popery,  and  as  dying  in  the  com- 
munion of  the  Church  of  Rome.  The  improved  edition 
of  the  Biographia  Britannica,  published  under  the  care 
of  Dr  Kippis,  having  unavoidably  brought  this  calumny 
again  into  notice,  it  may  not  be  unseasonable  to  offer  a 
few  reflections  in  this  place,  by  w^ay  of  obviating  any 
impressions  that  may  hence  arise  to  the  disadvantage 
of  so  great  a  character  as  that  of  the  late  Bishop  Butler  ; 
referring  those  who  desire  a  more  particular  account  of 
his  hfe,  to  the  third  volume  of  the  same  entertaining 
work,  printed  in  1784,  art.  Butler  (Joseph).* 

I.  The  principal  design  of  the  Bishop  in  his  Charge 
is,  to  exhort  his  Clergy  to  "do  their  part  towards  reviv- 
ing a  practical  sense  of  religion  amongst  the  people 
committed  to  their  care  and,  as  one  way  of  eflecting 
this,  to  "  instruct  them  in  the  Importance  of  External 
Religion,''  or  tlie  uscfiihicss  of  outward  observances  in 
promoting  inward  piety.    Now,  from  the  comnound 

*  The  account  here  alhuhd  to  is  fubjoined  to  tliis  Prt'face. 


PREFACE 


nature  of  man,  consisting  of  two  parts,  the  body  and  the 
mind,  together  with  the  influence  which  these  are  found 
to  have  on  one  another,  it  follows,  that  the  rehgious  re- 
gards of  such  a  creature  ought  to  be  so  framed,  as  to  be 
in  some  way  properly  accommodated  to  both.  A  reli- 
gion which  is  purely  spiritual,  stripped  of  every  thing 
that  may  affect  the  senses,  and  considered  only  as  a 
divine  philosophy  of  the  mind,  if  it  do  not  mount  up  into 
enthusiasm,  as  has  frequently  been  the  case,  often  sinks, 
after  a  few  short  fervours,  into  indifference :  an  abstracted 
invisible  object,  like  that  which  natural  religion  offers, 
ceases  to  move  or  interest  the  heart ;  and  something 
further  is  wanting  to  bring  it  nearer,  and  render  it  more 
present  to  our  view,  than  merely  an  intellectual  contem- 
plation. On  the  other  hand,  when,  in  order  to  remedy 
this  inconvenience,  recourse  is  had  to  instituted  forms 
and  ritual  injunctions,  there  is  always  danger  lest  men 
be  tempted  to  rest  entirely  on  these,  and  persuade 
themselves  that  a  painful  attention  to  such  observances 
will  atone  for  the  want  of  genuine  piety  and  virtue. 
Yet  surely  there  is  a  w^ay  of  steering  safely  between 
these  two  extremes  ;  of  so  consulting  both  the  parts  of 
our  constitution,  that  the  body  and  the  mind  may  concur 
in  rendering  our  religious  services  acceptable  to  God, 
and  at  the  same  time  useful  to  ourselves.  And  what 
way  can  this  be,  but  precisely  that  which  is  recommend- 
ed in  the  Charge  ;  such  a  cultivation  of  outward  as  well 
as  inward  religion,  that  from  both  may  result,  what  is 
the  point  chiefly  to  be  laboured,  and  at  all  events  to  be 
secured,  a  correspondent  temper  and  behaviour ;  or,  in 
other  words,  such  an  application  of  the  forms  of  godli- 
ness, as  may  be  subservient  in  promoting  the  power  and 
spirit  of  it.^  No  man,  who  believes  the  Scriptures  of 
the  Old  and  New  Testament,  and  understands  what  he 
believes,  but  must  know,  that  external  religion  is  as  much 
enjoined,  and  constitutes  as  real  a  part  of  revelation,  as 
that  which  is  internal.  The  many  ceremonies  in  use 
among  the  Jews,  in  consequence  of  a  divine  command ; 
the  baptism  of  water,  as  an  emblem  of  moral  purity;  the 
eating  and  drinking  of  bread  and  wine,  as  symbols  and 
representations  of  the  body  and  lilood  of  Christ,  required 


BY  THE  EDITOR* 


xi 


of  Christians,  are  proofs  of  this.    On  comparing  these 
two  parts  of  religion  together,  one,  it  is  immediately 
seen,  is  of  much  greater  importance  than  the  other ;  and, 
whenever  they  happen  to  interfere,  is  always  to  be  pre- 
ferred :  but  does  it  follow  from  hence,  that  therefore  that 
other  is  of  little  or  no  importance,  and,  in  cases  where 
there  is  no  competition,  may  entirely  be  neglected  ?  Or 
rather  is  not  the  legitimate  conclusion  directly  the  re- 
verse, that  nothing  is  to  be  looked  upon  as  of  little  im- 
portance, which  is  of  any  use  at  all  in  preserving  upon 
our  minds  a  sense  of  the  Divine  authority,  which  recalls 
to  our  remembrance  the  obligations  we  are  under,  and 
helps  to  keep  us,  as  the  Scripture  expresses  it,  "  in  the 
fear  of  the  Lord  all  the  day  long?"*    If,  to  adopt  the 
instance  mentioned  in  the  Charge,  the  sight  of  a  church 
should  remind  a  man  of  some  sentiment  of  piety  ;  if, 
from  the  view  of  a  material  building  dedicated  to  the 
service  of  God,  he  should  be  led  to  regard  himself,  his 
own  body,  as  a  living  "temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost,"!  and 
therefore  no  more  than  the  other  to  be  profaned  or  dese- 
crated by  any  thing  that  defileth  or  is  impure  ;  could  it 
be  truly  said  of  such  a  one,  that  he  was  superstitious,  or 
mistook  the  means  of  religion  for  the  end?    If,  to  use 
another,  and  what  has  been  thought  a  more  obnoxious 
instance,  taken  from  the  Bishop's  practice,  a  cross,  erect- 
ed in  a  place  of  public  worship,  t  should  cause  us  to  re- 
flect on  Him  who  died  on  a  cross  for  our  salvation,  and 
on  the  necessity  of  our  "  own  dying  to  sin,"  §  and  of 
'^crucifying  the  flesh  with  its  affection  and  lusts ;"ll  would 
any  worse  consequences  follow  from  such  sentiments  so 
excited,  tlian  if  the  same  sentiments  had  been  excited  by 
the  view  of  a  picture,  of  the  crucifixion  suppose,  such 
as  is  commonly  placed,  and  with  this  very  design,  in 
foreign  churches,  and  indeed  in  many  of  our  own  ?  Both 
the  instanc(^s  here  adduced,  it  is  very  possible,  may  be 

*  Prov.  xxiii.  17.  +1  Cor.  vi.  15). 

X  DrTliithT,  Aviicn  liMiop  ot  Bristol,  put  up  a  cross,  ;i  jiliiin  [nrrv  of  iu:irl)I«'  iiilnid, 
in  llie  oli:ip»'l  of  his  rpiscoj»;il  house,  'riiis,  which  was  inU'inh-d  by  tin-  l»laiiH'U'S9 
Prelate  int  rely  as  a  si<rii  or  lueiuorial,  that  irue  Ciiristiaiis  are  to  hear  llieir  cross,  and 
not  to  he  ashamed  ot  followiiifr  a  crucified  Muster,  was  cousiih  n  d  as  afTonliup  a 
presumption  that  he  was  secretly  inclined  lt>  Popish  h>rn\s  and  ceremonies,  and  lind 
no  pjreat  (li^like  to  Popery  itself.  And,  on  accounl  of  I  he  olh  iice  it  occasioueil,  botll 
Rt  tlie  time  and  since,  it  were  to  be  wibhul,  ui  prudence,  it  luid  not  hern  done. 
§  Rom.  vi.  11.  II  (.al.  V.  L^l. 


xii 


PREFACE 


far  from  being  approved,  even  by  those  who  are  under 
the  most  sincere  convictions  of  the  importance  of  true 
rehgion :  and  it  is  easy  to  conceive  how  open  to  scorn 
and  censure  they  must  be  from  others,  who  think  they 
have  a  talent  for  ridicule,  and  have  accustomed  them- 
selves to  regard  all  pretensions  to  piety  as  hypocritical 
or  superstitious.  But  Wisdom  is  justified  of  her  chil- 
dren."* Religion  is  what  it  is,  "whether  men  will  hear, 
or  whether  they  will  forbear  ;"t  and  whatever  in  the 
smallest  degree  promotes  its  interests,  and  assists  us  in 
performing  its  commands,  whether  that  assistance  be 
derived  from  the  medium  of  the  body  or  the  mind,  ought 
to  be  esteemed  of  great  weight,  and  deserving  of  our 
most  serious  attention. 

However,  be  the  danger  of  superstition  what  it  may, 
no  one  was  more  sensible  of  that  danger,  or  more  in 
earnest  in  maintaining,  that  external  acts  of  themselves 
are  nothing,  and  that  moral  holiness,  as  distinguished 
from  bodily  observances  of  every  kind,  is  that  which 
constitutes  the  essence  of  religion,  than  Bishop  Butler. 
Not  only  the  Charge  itself,  the  whole  intention  of  which 
is  plainly  nothing  more  than  to  enforce  the  necessity  of 
practical  religion,  the  reality  as  well  as  form,  is  a  de- 
monstration of  this,  but  many  passages  besides  to  the 
same  purpose,  selected  from  his  other  writings.  Take 
the  two  following  as  specimens.  In  his  Analogy  he  ob- 
serves thus :  "  Though  mankind  have,  in  all  ages,  been 
greatly  prone  to  place  their  religion  in  peculiar  positive 
rites,  by  way  of  equivalent  for  obedience  to  moral  pre- 
cepts; yet,  without  making  any  comparison  at  all  be- 
tween them,  and  consequently  without  determining 
which  is  to  have  the  preference,  the  nature  of  the  thing 
abundantly  shows  all  notions  of  that  kind  to  be  utterly 
subversive  of  true  religion :  as  they  are,  moreover,  con- 
trary to  the  whole  tenor  of  Scripture ;  and  likewise  to 
the  most  express  particular  declarations  of  it,  that  no- 
thing can  render  us  accepted  of  God,  without  moral 
virtue."!  And  to  the  same  purpose  in  his  Sermon, 
preached  before  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the 
Gospel,  in  February,  1738-9.    "  Indeed,  amongst  crea- 

•  Malt.  xi.  19.  +  Eztk.  ii.  5  %  -Analogy,  Part  U.  Chap.  i. 


BY  THE  EDITOR. 


xiii 


tures  naturally  formed  for  religion,  yet  so  much  under 
the  power  of  imagination  as  men  are,  superstition  is  an 
evil,  which  can  never  be  out  of  sight.  But  even  against 
this,  true  religion  is  a  great  security,  and  the  only  one. 
True  religion  takes  up  that  place  in  the  mind,  which 
superstition  would  usurp,  and  so  leaves  little  room  for 
it;  and  likewise  lays  us  under  the  strongest  obligations 
to  oppose  it.  On  the  contrary,  the  danger  of  supersti- 
tion cannot  but  be  increased  by  the  prevalence  of  irre- 
ligion ;  and,  by  its  general  prevalence,  the  evil  will  be 
unavoidable.  For  the  common  people,  wanting  a  reli- 
gion, will  of  course  take  up  with  almost  any  superstition 
which  is  thrown  in  their  way:  and  in  process  of  time, 
amidst  the  infinite  vicissitudes  of  the  political  world,  the 
leaders  of  parties  will  certainly  be  able  to  serve  them- 
selves of  that  superstition,  whatever  it  be,  which  is  get- 
ting ground;  and  will  not  fail  to  carry  it  to  the  utmost 
length  their  occasions  require.  The  general  nature  of 
the  thing  shows  this;  and  history  and  fact  confirm  it. 
It  is  therefore  wonderful,  those  people  who  seem  to 
think  there  is  but  one  evil  in  life,  that  of  superstition, 
should  not  see  that  atheism  and  profaneness  must  be  the 
introduction  of  it."* 

He  who  can  think  and  write  in  such  a  manner,  can 
never  be  said  to  mistake  the  nature  of  real  religion:  and 
he,  who,  after  such  proofs  to  the  contrary,  can  persist  in 
asserting  of  so  discreet  and  learned  a  person,  tliat  he 
was  addicted  to  superstition,  must  himself  be  much  a 
stranger  both  to  truth  and  charity. 

And  here  it  may  be  worth  our  while  to  observe,  that 
the  same  excellent  Prelate,  who  bv  one  set  of  men  was 
suspected  of  superstition,  on  account  of  his  Charge,  has 
by  another  been  represented  as  leaning  to  the  opposite 
extreme  of  enthusiasm,  on  account  of  liis  two  discourses 
On  the  Love  of  God.  But  both  opinions  are  equally 
without  foundation.  He  was  neither  superstitious,  nor 
an  enthusiast:  his  mind  was  much  too  strong,  and  his 
habits  of  thinking  and  reasoning  much  too  strict  and  se- 
vere, to  suffer  him  to  descend  to  the  weaknesses  of  either 
character.    His  piety  was  at  once  fervent  and  rational. 

♦  Ser.  xvi. 


xiv 


PREFACE 


When  impressed  with  a  generous  concern  for  the  de- 
chning  cause  of  rehgion,  he  laboured  to  revive  its  dying 
interests  ;  nothing  he  judged  would  be  more  effectual  to 
that  end,  among  creatures  so  much  engaged  with  bodily- 
things,  and  so  apt  to  be  affected  with  whatever  strongly 
solicits  the  senses,  as  men  are,  than  a  religion  of  such  a 
frame  as  should  in  its  exercise  require  the  joint  exertions 
of  the  body  and  the  mind.  On  the  other  hand,  when 
penetrated  with  the  dignity  and  importance  of  "the  first 
and  great  commandment,"*  love  to  God,  he  set  himself 
to  inquire,  what  those  movements  of  the  heart  are, 
which  are  due  to  Him,  the  Author  and  Cause  of  all 
things ;  he  found,  in  the  coolest  way  of  consideration, 
that  God  is  the  natural  object  of  the  same  affections  of 
gratitude,  reverence,  fear,  desire  of  approbation,  trust, 
and  dependence,  the  same  affections  in  kind^  though 
doubtless  in  a  very  disproportionate  degree^  which  any 
one  would  feel  from  contemplating  a  perfect  character 
in  a  creature,  in  which  goodness,  with  wisdom  and 
power,  are  supposed  to  be  the  predominant  qualities, 
with  the  further  circumstance,  that  this  creature  was 
also  his  governor  and  friend.  This  subject  is  manifestly 
a  real  one ;  there  is  nothing  in  it  fanciful  or  unreason- 
able :  this  way  of  being  affected  towards  God  is  piety,  in 
the  strictest  sense  :  this  is  rehgion,  considered  as  a  habit 
of  mind ;  a  religion,  suited  to  the  nature  and  condition, 
of  man.i" 

II.  From  superstition  to  Popery ^  the  transition  is  easy: 
no  wonder  then,  that,  in  the  progress  of  detraction,  the 
simple  imputation  of  the  former  of  these,  with  which  the 
attack  on  the  character  of  our  Author  was  opened, 
should  be  followed  by  the  more  aggravated  imputation 
of  the  latter.  Nothing,  I  think,  can  fairly  be  gathered 
in  support  of  such  a  suggestion  from  the  Charge,  in 
which  Popery  is  barely  mentioned,  and  occasionally 

*Matt.  xxii.  38. 

f  Many  of  the  spntiments,  in  tliese  Two  Discourses  of  Bishop  Butler,  containing^ 
the  sovereign  good  of  man  ;  the  in)[)ossihilily  of  procuring  it  in  the  present  life ;  the 
i.nsatisfactoriness  of  rartiiiy  enjoynients  ;  togeth*  r  with  the  somewhat  beyond  and 
nlwve  them  all,  which  once  attained,  there  will  rest  nothing  further  to  be  wished  or 
hoped  ;  and  which  is  then  only  to  be  expected,  when  we  shall  have  put  ort'  this 
niorUil  Ijody,  and  our  union  with  God  shall  be  coiDplete ;  occur  in  Hooker'*  Eccle- 
siattical  Polity.  Book  I.  5.  11. 


BY  THE  EDITOR. 


XV 


only,  and  in  a  sentence  or  two ;  yet  even  there,  it  should 
be  remarked,  the  Bishop  takes  care  to  describe  the  pe- 
cuhar  observances  required  by  it,  "some  as  in  them- 
selves wrong  and  superstitious,  and  others  of  them  as 
being  made  subservient  to  the  purposes  of  superstition." 
With  respect  to  his  other  writings,  any  one  at  all  con- 
versant with  them  needs  not  to  be  told,  that  the  matters 
treated  of  both  in  his  Sermons  and  his  Analogy  did  none 
of  them  directly  lead  him  to  consider,  and  much  less  to 
combat,  the  opinions,  whether  relating  to  faith  or  wor- 
ship, which  are  peculiar  to  the  Church  of  Rome:  it 
might  therefore  have  happened,  yet  without  any  just 
conclusion  arising  from  thence,  of  being  himself  inclined 
to  favour  those  opinions,  that  he  had  never  mentioned, 
so  much  as  incidentally,  the  subject  of  Popery  at  ali. 
But  fortunately  for  the  reputation  of  the  Bishop,  and  to 
the  eternal  disgrace  of  his  calumniators,  even  this  poor 
resource  is  wanting  to  support  their  malevolence.  In 
his  Sermon  at  St  Bride's  before  the  Lord  Mayor  in 
1740,  after  having  said  that  *'our  laws  and  whole  consti- 
tution go  more  upon  supposition  of  an  equality  amongst 
mankind,  than  the  constitution  and  laws  of  other  coun- 
tries;" he  goes  on  to  observe,  that  "this  plainly  requires, 
that  more  particular  regard  should  be  had  to  the  educa- 
tion of  the  lower  people  here,  than  in  places  where  they 
are  born  slaves  of  power,  and  to  be  made  slaves  of  su- 
perstition* meaning  evidently  in  this  place,  by  the  gen- 
eral  term  superstition,  the  particuhir  c  rrors  of  the  Ro- 
manists. This  is  something:  but  we  have  a  still  plainer 
indication  what  his  sentiments  concerning  Popery  really 
were,  from  another  of  his  additional  Sermons,  [  mean 
that  before  the  House  of  Lords  on  June  the  11th,  1747, 
the  anniversary  of  his  late  Majesty's  accession.  The 
passage  alluded  to  is  as  follows;  and  my  readers  will 
not  be  displeased  that  I  give  it  them  at  length.  "  The 
value  of  our  lelii^ious  Establishment  ought  to  be  very 
much  heightened  in  our  esteem,  by  considering  what  it 
is  a  security  from;  I  moan  that  great  corruption  of 
Christianity,  Poperv,  which  is  ever  hard  at  work  to  bring 
lis  again  under  its  yoke,    ^^'hoeve^  ^^  ill  (^^-^^(M-  the  Po- 


*  Scnii.  xvii. 


xvi 


PREFACE 


pish  claims,  to  the  disposal  of  the  whole  earth,  as  of 
divine  right,  to  dispense  with  the  most  sacred  engage- 
ments, the  claims  to  supreme  absolute  authority  in  reli- 
gion; in  short,  the  general  claims  which  the  Canonists 
express  by  the  words,  plenitude  of  power — whoever,  I 
say,  will  consider  Popery  as  it  is  professed  at  Rome, 
may  see,  that  it  is  manifest,  open  usurpation  of  all  hu- 
man and  divine  authority.  But  even  in  those  Roman 
Catholic  countries  where  these  monstrous  claims  are 
not  admitted,  and  the  civil  power  does,  in  many  respects, 
restrain  the  papal ;  yet  persecution  is  professed,  as  it  is 
absolutely  enjoined  by  what  is  acknowledged  to  be  their 
highest  authority,  a  general  council,  so  called,  with  the 
Pope  at  the  head  of  it ;  and  is  practised  in  all  of  them, 
I  think,  without  exception,  where  it  can  be  done  safely. 
Thus  they  go  on  to  substitute  force  instead  of  argument ; 
and  external  profession  made  by  force,  instead  of  rea- 
sonable conviction.  And  thus  corruptions  of  the  gros- 
sest sort  have  been  in  vogue,  for  many  generations,  in 
many  parts  of  Christendom ;  and  are  so  still,  even  where 
Popery  obtains  in  its  least  absurd  form  :  and  their  anti- 
quity and  wide  extent  are  insisted  upon  as  proofs  of 
their  truth  ;  a  kind  of  proof,  which  at  best  can  only  be 
presumptive,  but  which  loses  all  its  little  weight,  in  pro- 
portion as  the  long  and  large  prevalence  of  such  cor- 
ruptions have  been  obtained  by  force."*  In  another 
part  of  the  same  Sermon,  where  he  is  again  speaking  of 
our  ecclesiastical  constitution,  he  reminds  his  audience 
that  it  is  to  be  valued,  not  because  it  leaves  us  at 
liberty  to  have  as  little  religion  as  we  please,  without 
being  accountable  to  human  judicatories  ;  but  because 
it  exhibits  to  our  view,  and  enforces  upon  our  con- 
sciences, genuine  Christianity,  free  from  the  supersti- 
tions with  which  it  is  defiled  in  other  countries  ;  which 
superstitions,  he  observes,  "  naturally  tend  to  abate  its 
force."  The  date  of  this  Sermon  should  here  be  attend- 
ed to.  It  was  preached  in  June,  1747;  that  is,  four 
years  before  the  delivery  and  publication  of  the  Charge, 
which  was  in  the  year  1751  ;  and  exactly  five  years 
before  the  Author  died,  which  was  in  June,  1752.  We 


BY  THE  EDITOR. 


xvii 


have  then,  in  the  passages  now  laid  before  the  reader,  a 
clear  and  unequivocal  proof,  brought  down  to  within  a 
few  years  of  Bishop  Butler's  death,  that  Popery  was 
held  by  him  in  the  utmost  abhorrence,  and  that  he  re- 
garded it  in  no  other  light,  than  as  the  great  corruption' 
of  Christianity,  ^nddimanif est,  open  usurpation  of  all  hitman 
and  divine  authority.  The  argument  is  decisive  ;  nor 
will  any  thing  be  of  force  to  invalidate  it,  unless  from 
some  after-ad  during  the  short  remainder  of  the  Bishop's 
life,  besides  that  of  delivering  and  printing  his  Charge 
(which,  after  what  I  have  said  here,  and  in  the  Notes 
added  to  this  Preface  and  to  the  Charge  I  must  have 
leave  to  consider  as  affording  no  evidence  at  all  of  his 
inclination  to  Papistical  doctrines  Dr  ceremonies),  the 
contrary  shall  incontrovertibly  appear. 

III.  One  such  after-act,  however,  has  been  alleged, 
which  would  effectually  demolish  all  that  we  have  urged 
in  behalf  of  our  Prelate,  were  it  true,  as  is  pretended, 
that  he  died  in  the  communion  of  the  Church  of  Home. 
Had  a  story  of  this  sort  been  invented  and  propagated 
by  Papists,  the  wonder  might  have  been  less :  A 

Hoc  Ithacus  velit,  et  magno  mercentur  Atridce. 

But  to  the  reproach  of  Protestantism,  the  fabrication  of 
this  calumny,  for  such  we  shall  find  it,  originated  from 
among  ourselves.  It  is  pretty  remarkable,  that  a  cir- 
cumstance so  extraordinary  should  never  have  been  di- 
vulged till  the  year  1767,  fifteen  years  after  the  Bishop's 
decease.  At  that  time  Dr  Thomas  Seeker  was  Arch- 
bishop of  Canterbury ;  who  of  all  others  was  the  most 
likely  to  know  the  truth  or  falsehood  of  the  fact  asserted, 
having  been  educated  with  our  Author  in  his  early  youth, 
and  having  lived  in  a  constant  habit  of  intimacy  with 
him  to  the  very  time  of  his  death.  The  good  Arch- 
bishop was  not  silent  on  tliis  occasion  :  with  a  virtuous 
mdignation  he  stood  forth  to  protect  the  posthumous  cha- 
racter of  his  friend  ;  and  in  a  pubHc  newspaper,  under  the 
signature  of  MUopscudes,  called  upon  his  accuser  to  sup- 
port what  he  had  advanced,  by  whatever  proofs  he  could. 
No  proof,  however,  nor  any  thing  like  a  proof,  appeared 
in  reply  ;  and  every  man  of  sense  and  candour  at  that 

n 


xviii 


PREFACE 


time  was  perfectly  convinced  the  assertion  was  entirely 
groundless.*     Asa  further  confirmation  of  the  rectitude 

*  When  the  first  edition  of  this  Preface  was  publisiied,  I  had  in  vaii*.  endeavoured 
to  procure  a  sifflit  of  tiie  papers,  in  which  Bishop  Butler  was  accused  of  Jiaviii<r  died 
a  Papist,  and  Archbishop  Seeker  s  replies  to  them  ;  ihoug^h  I  well  remembered  to 
have  read  both,  when  they  first  appeared  in  the  pul)lic  prints.  But  a  learned  Pro- 
fessor in  the  University  of  Oxford  has  furnisiied  me  with  tlie  whole  controversy  in  its 
original  fonn  ;  a  brief  history  of  which  it  may  not  be  unacceptable  to  offer  here  to  the 
curious  render. 

The  attack  was  opened  in  the  year  1767,  in  an  anonymous  pamphlet,  entitled, 
*'  The  Root  of  Protestant  Errors  examined  ;"  in  which  the  author  asserted,  that,  "■  by 
an  anecdote  lately  given  him,  that  same  Prelate"  (who  at  the  bottom  of  the  page  is 
called  B — p  of  D— m)  "is  said  to  have  died  in  the  communion  of  a  Churcii,  that 
makes  much  use  of  saints,  saints'  days,  and  all  the  trumpery  of  faint  worship."  When 
this  remarkable  fact,  now  first  divulged,  came  to  be  generally  known,  it  occasioned,, 
as  might  be  expected,  no  little  alarm  ;  and  intelligence  of  it  was  no  sooner  conveyed 
to  Archbishop  Seeker,  than  in  a  short  letter,  signed  Misopseiides,  and  printed  in  the 
St  James's  Chronicle  of  May  9^  he  called  upon  the  writer  to  prmluce  his  authority 
for  publisiiing  so  gross  and  scandalous  a  falsehood."  To  this  challenge  an  imme- 
diate answer  was  returned  by  the  autlior  of  the  pamphlet,  who,  now  assuming  the 
name  of  Phileleidheros,  informed  Misopsentles,  through  the  channel  of  the.  same  paper,. 
that  "  such  anecdote  had  been  given  liim ;  and  that  he  was  yet  of  opinion,  tliat  there 
was  nothing  improl)able  in  it,  when  it  is  considered  that  the  same  Prelate  put  up  the 
Popish  insignia  of  the  cross  in  his  chapel,  when  at  Bristol  ;  and  in  his  last  P>piscopal 
Charge  has  squinted  very  much  towards  that  superstition."  Here  we  find  tlie  accusa- 
tion not  only  repeated,  but  supported  by  reasons,  such  as  they  are,  of  which  it  seemed' 
necessary  that  some  notice  should  be  taken  :  nor  did  the  Archbishop  conceive  it  un- 
becoming his  own  dignity  to  stand  up  on  this  occasion,  as  the  vindicator  of  innocence 
against  the  calumniator  of  the  helpless  dead.  Accordingly,  in  a  second  letter  in  the 
same  newspaper  of  May  23,  and  subscribed  Misopstudes  as  before  ;  after  reciting 
from  Bishop  Butler's  Sermon  before  the  Lords  the  very  passage  here  printed  in  tiie 
Preface,  and  observing,  tliat  "  there  are,  in  the  same  Sermon,  declarations  as  strong- 
as  can  be  made  against  temporal  punishments  for  heresy,  schism,  or  even  for  idola- 
try his  Grace  expresses  liimself  thus :  "  Now  he  (Bishop  Butler)  was  universally 
esteemed  throughout  his  life,  a  man  of  strict  piety  and  honesty,  as  well  as  uncommon 
abilities.  He  gave  all  the  proofs,  public  and  jirivate,  which  his  station  led  him  to- 
give,  and  they  were  decisive  and  daily,  of  his  continuing  to  the  last  a  sincere  member 
of  the  Church  of  England.  Nor  had  ever  any  of  his  acquaintance,  or  most  intimate 
friends,  nor  have  they  to  this  day,  tiie  least  doubt  of  it."  As  to  putting  up  a  cross  in- 
his  chapel,  the  Archbishop  frankly  owns,  that  for  himself  he  wishes  he  had  not ;  and 
thinks  that  in  ro  doing  the  Bishop  did  amiss.  But  then  he  asks,  "  Can  that  be  oppos- 
ed, as  any  proof  of  Popery,  to  all  the  evidence  on  the  other  side  ;  or  even  to  the 
single  evidence  of  the  above-mentioned  Seniion  ?  Most  of  our  churches  have  crosse*- 
upon  them :  are  they  therefore  Popish  churches?  The  Lutherans  have  more  than 
crosses  in  theirs:  are  the  Lutheraiis  therefore  Papists?"  And  as  to  the  Charge,  na 
Papist,  his  Grace  remarks,  would  have  spoken  as  Bishop  Buthr  there  does,  of  the 
observances  peculiar  to  Roman  Catholics,  some  of  which  he  expres.sly  censures  bs 
wrong  and  superstitioiis,  and  others,  as  made  snb-ervient  to  the  pur;  oses  of  supersti- 
tion, and,  on  these  accounts,  abolished  at  tlie  Refoniialion.  After  the  publication  of 
this  letter  Phileleutheros  replied  in  a  short  defence  »)f  his  own  conduct,  but  witiiout 
prodiicing  any  thing  n«  \v  in  confirmation  of  what  he  had  advanced.  And  here  the- 
controversy,  so  far  as  tlie  two  i>rini  ipals  wt  re  concerneil,  seems  to  have  t  nded. 

But  tlie  dispute  was  not  sufTrred  to  die  away  quite  so  soon.  Tor  in  the  si  me  year,, 
and  in  the  same  newspaper  of  July  another  letter  appeared  ;  in  which  the  auiiior 
not  only  contended  that  the  cn»ss  in  the  Episcopal  chapel  at  Bristol,  r.nd  the  Charge 
to  the  Clergy  of  Durham  in  1751.  amount  to  full  proof  of  a  strong  nttuchnu  nt  to  the 
idolatroiLS  communion  of  the  Church  of  Rome,  but,  with  the  reader's  leave,  he  would 
lain  account  for  the  Bishop's  "tendency  this  wtiy. '    And  this  he  □tlemptrd  to  do, 

Iroin  the  natural  melancholy  and  gloominess  of  Dr  Butler's  disjxisition  ;  from  his 
prt»it  fondness  for  the  lives  of  Romish  saints,  and  Uieir  books  of  mystic  piety  ;  from 
Lis  drawing  his  notions  of  teachiii^  nien  religioB,  uU  from  the  New  Testameut,  bu*  • 


BY  THE  EDITOR. 


of  this  judgment,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  mention,  there 
is  yet  in  existence  a  strong  presumptive  argument  at  least 
in  its  favour,  drawn  from  the  testimony  of  those  who  at- 
tended our  Author  in  the  sickness  of  which  he  died. 
The  last  days  of  this  excellent  Prelate  were  passed  at 
Bath ;  Dr  Xathanael  Forster,  his  chaplain,  being  con- 
tinually with  him  ;  and  for  one  day,  and  at  the  very  end 
of  his  illness,  Dr  Martin  Benson  also,  the  then  Bishop 
of  Gloucester,  who  shortened  his  own  life  in  his  pious 
haste  to  visit  his  dying  friend.  Both  these  persons  con- 
stantly wrote  letters  to  Dr  Seeker,  then  Bishop  of  Ox- 
ford, containing  accounts  of  Bishop  Butler's  declining 
health,  and  of  the  symptoms  and  progress  of  his  disorder, 
which,  as  was  conjectured,  soon  terminated  in  his  death. 

from  philosophical  and  political  opinions  of  his  ovrn  ;  and  above  all,  from  his  transi- 
tion from  a  stx.ct  Dissciiu-r  amongst  the  Presbvterians  to  a  rigid  Churdimrm,  and  his 
sudden  and  unexpected  elevation  to  great  wealth  and  dignity  in  the  Church.''  The 
attack,  tlius  renewt<l,  excited  the  Arclibishop's  attention  a  st  cond  time,  and  drew 
from  him  a  fresh  answer,  subscribed  also  MUopseudcs.  in  the  St  James's  Chronicle  of 
August  4.  In  this  letter,  our  excellent  Metropolitan,  first  of  all  obliquely  hinting  at 
tJie  unfairness  of  sitting  in  judgmenL  on  the  character  of  a  man  who  had  been  dead 
fifteen  years;  and  then  reminding  his  correspondent,  Uiat  "fail  proof  had  been  al- 
ready published,  tliat  Bishop  Butler  abhorred  Popery  as  a  vile  corruption  of  Cliris- 
tianity,  and  tltat  it  might  be  proved,  if  needtul,  tiiat  he  held  the  Pope  to  be  Anti- 
christ;" (to  which  decisive  testimonies  of  undoubted  aversion  from  Uie  Romish 
Church,  another  is  also  adde<l  in  the  Postscript,  his  taking,  wijen  promoted  to  the  see 
of  Durham,  for  his  domestic  Ciiaplain,  Dr  Nath.  Forster,  who  had  publisher',  not  four 
years  before,  a  Sermon,  entitled,  Popery  destructive  of  tlie  Evidence  of  Christianity;) 
proceeds  to  obser>  e,  "  tliat  tiie  natural  melancholy  of  tlie  Bishop's  temper  would  ratlier 
have  fixed  him  amono^st  his  first  friends,  than  prumptt-d  hira  to  the  cliange  he  made  : 
that  he  read  books  of  all  sorts,  as  well  as  books  of  mystic  pifty,  and  knew  how  to 
pidt  the  good  tliat  was  in  them  out  of  the  ljud:  tliat  his  opinions  were  exposed  with- 
out reserve  in  his  Analogy  and  his  Sermons,  and  if  the  docirine  of  eitJier  be  Popish 
or  unscriptural,  ihe  learned  world  liath  mistaken  strangely  in  admiring  botii :  that, 
instead  of  \><'n\s.  a  strict  Dlss«  nter,  he  never  was  a  communicant  in  any  I) iisenting  as- 
sembly ;  on  the  contrary,  that  he  went  occasionally,  from  his  early  years,  to  Uie  es- 
tablished worship,  and  became  a  co<istant  conformist  to  it  when  he  was  barely  of  age, 
and  enien-d  hiniM-lf,  in  1714,  of  Oriel  College  :  tiiat  iiis  elevation  to  great  dignity  in 
the  Church,  far  from  Wing  sudd«  n  and  unexpt-cu-d,  was  a  gradual  and  natural  rise, 
through  a  variety  of  prefennents,  and  a  period  of  tliirty  two  y»  ars  :  tliat,  as  Bishop  ol 
Durliain,  he  had  very  little  auihority  beyond  his  bretJiren,  and  in  eccle>iast;cal  mat- 
Jters,  liad  none  beyond  tlu  ni  ;  a  larger  income  Uian  mirst  of  tliem  he  had  ;  but  tliis 
he  emuloyed,  not,  as  was  insiniiated,  in  augmenting  the  pomp  of  worship  in  his  ca- 
thedral,  where  indeed  it  is  no  greater  Jmn  in  otlier»,  bat  for  the  purposes  of  charily, 
and  in  the  repairing  of  his  hous^-s."  After  these  remarks.  Uie  leUer  closes  wrtli  tlie 
following  words:  "  L '^hhi  tlie  whole,  few  accusatitins.  so  entirely  groundless,  liava 
be«-n  so  pertuiaciously,  I  am  unwilling  to  say  maiicou^ly,  curried  on,  as  Uie  present: 
and  surely  it  is  high  time  for  the  jiuUiors  and  abettors  of  it,  in  mere  conunuii  prudeiK*, 
to  show  some  reganl,  if  not  to  truUi,  at  least  to  sl  ame." 

It  only  remains  to  be  nu  ntionetl.  Uiat  Uie  al>ove  letters  of  Archbishop  .Se<  ker  had 
iucli  an  effect  on  a  writer,  who  signed  liimself  in  Uie  St  James  >  (  hn»uicle  of  Augml 
ib^  A  Dissenting  Mmistfr,  that  h»'  declar»-d  it  as  his  op  iiion.  Uial  "  Uie  autlior  <if  tba 
pamphlet,  calh-d,  '  The  Iloot  of  Protesiaiit  Errors  exHUiin<ti,'  and  his  frieadt,  ««rt 
obliged  in  candour,  in  ju>iice,  and  in  honour  to  retract  Uieir  diam,  unless  they 
ouuld  establish  it  oa  much  belter  groiuuis  Uian  bad  hiUierto  appcttrea:'*  and  he  ex 


XX 


PREFACE 


These  letters,  which  are  still  preserved  in  the  Lambeth 
library,*  I  have  read ;  and  not  the  slenderest  argument 
can  be  collected  from  them,  in  justification  of  the 
ridiculous  slander  we  are  here  considering.  If  at  that 
awful  season  the  Bishop  was  not  known  to  have  ex- 
pressed any  opinion  tending  to  show  his  dislike  to 
Popery,  neither  was  he  known  to  have  said  any  thing, 
that  could  at  all  be  construed  in  approbation  of  it ;  and 
the  natural  presumption  is  that  whatever  sentiments  he 
had  formerly  entertained  concerning  that  corrupt  system 
of  religion,  he  continued  to  entertain  them  to  the  last. 
The  truth  is,  neither  the  word  nor  the  idea  of  Popery 
seems  once  to  have  occurred  either  to  the  Bishop  him- 
self, or  to  those  who  watched  his  parting  moments  : 
their  thoughts  were  otherwise  engaged.  His  disorder 
had  reduced  him  to  such  debility,  as  to  render  him  in- 
capable of  speaking  much  or  long  on  any  subject :  the 
few  bright  intervals  that  occurred  were  passed  in  a  state 
of  the  utmost  tranquillity  and  composure ;  and  in  that 
composure  he  expired.  "  Mark  the  perfect  man,  and 
behold  the  upright:  for  the  end  of  that  man  is  peace."! 
"  Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let  my  last 
end  be  like  his  !"t 

Out  of  pure  respect  for  the  virtues  of  a  man,  whom  I 

pressed  his  "  hopes,  that  it  would  be  understood  that  the  Dissenters  in  general  had 
no  hand  in  the  accusation,  and  that  it  had  only  been  the  act  of  two  or  three  mistaken 
men."  Another  person  also,  "  a  foreigner  by  birth,"  as  he  says  of  himself,  who  had 
been  long  an  admirer  of  Bishop  }3utler,  and  had  perused  with  great  attention  all  that 
liad  been  written  on  both  sides  in  the  present  controversy,  confosses  lie  had  been 
wonderfully  pleased  with  observing,  with  what  candour  and  temper,  as  well  as 
clearness  and  solidity,  he  was  vindicated  from  the  aspersions  laid  against  him."  All 
the  adversaries  of  our  Prelate,  however,  had  not  the  virtue  or  sense  to  be  thus  con- 
vinced ;  some  of  whom  still  continued,  under  the  signatures  of  Old  Martin,  Latimer^ 
jln  Impartial  Protettant,  Paiilinus,  Misonothos,  to  repeat  their  confuted  talselioods  in 
the  puolic  prints ;  as  if  the  curse  of  calumniators  had  fallen  upon  them,  and  tlieir 
memory,  by  being  long  a  traitor  to  truth,  had  tiiken  at  last  a  severe  revenj^e,  and 
compelled  tJjcm  to  credit  their  own  lie.  The  first  of  these  gentlemen,  Old  Martin ^ 
who  dates  from  Newcastle,  May  29,  from  the  rancour  and  malignity  with  which  his 
letter  abounds,  and  from  the  particular  virulence  he  discovers  towards  the  clmrncters 
of  Bishop  Butler  and  his  defender,  I  conjecture  to  be  no  other  than  the  very  person 
who  had  already  figured  in  this  dispute,' so  early  as  the  year  1752;  of  whose  work, 
entitled,  "  A  Serious  Inquiry  into  the  Use  and  Importance  of  Kxternal  Relif>i(m,"  the 
reader  will  find  some  account  in  the  notes  subjoined  to  the  Bishop's  Cliarge  in  the 
volume  of  Sermons. 

*  The  letters,  with  a  sight  of  which  I  was  indulged  by  the  favour  of  our  present 
most  worthy  Metropolitan,  are  all,  as  I  remember,  wrapped  together  imder  one 
cover;  on  the  back  of  which  is  written,  in  Archbishop  Seeker's  own  liand,  the  fol- 
lowing words,  or  words  to  this  effect  :**Presuraptive  Arguments  that  Bishop  Butler 
did  cot  die  a  Pbpist." 

+  Paalm  xxxvii.  37.  %  Numb,  xxiii.  10, 


BY  THE  EDITOR. 


xxi 


had  never  the  happiness  of  knowing,  or  even  of  seeing, 
but  from  whose  writings  I  have  received  the  greatest 
benefit  and  illumination,  and  which  I  have  reason  to  be 
thankful  to  Providence  for  having  early  thrown  in  my 
w^ay,  I  have  adventured,  in  what  I  have  now  offered  to 
the  public,  to  step  forth  in  his  defence,  and  to  vindicate 
his  honest  fame  from  the  attacks  of  those,  who,  with  the 
vain  hope  of  bringing  down  superior  characters  to  their 
own  level,  are  for  ever  at  work  in  detracting  from  their 
just  praise.  For  the  literary  reputation  of  Bishop 
Butler,  it  stands  too  high  in  the  opinion  of  the  world,  to 
incur  the  danger  of  any  diminution  :  but  this  in  truth  is 
the  least  of  his  excellences.  He  was  more  than  a  good 
writer,  he  was  a  good  man ;  and  what  is  an  addition 
even  to  this  eulogy,  he  was  a  sincere  Christian.  His 
whole  study  was  directed  to  the  knowledge  and  practice 
of  sound  morality  and  true  rehgion  :  these  he  adorned 
by  his  life,  and  has  recommended  to  future  ages  in  his 
writings  ;  in  which,  if  my  judgment  be  of  any  avail,  he 
has  done  essential  service  to  both,  as  much,  perhaps,  as 
any  single  person,  since  the  extraordinary  gifts  of  "  the 
word  of  wisdom  and  the  word  of  knowledge  "*  have 
been  withdrawn. 

In  what  follows  I  propose  to  give  a  short  account  of 
the  Bishop's  moral  and  religious  systems,  as  these  are 
collected  from  his  Works. 

I.  His  way  of  treating  the  subject  of  morals  is  to  be 
gathered  from  the  volume  of  his  Sermons,  and  particu- 
larly from  the  three  first,  and  from  the  preface  to  that 
volume. 

"  There  is,"  as  our  Author  with  singular  sagacity  has 
observccf,  "  a  much  more  exact  correspondence  bet  ween 
the  natural  and  moral  world,  than  we  are  apt  to  take  no- 
tice of."f  The  inward  frame  of  man  answers  to  his  out- 
ward condition  ;  the  several  propensities,  passions,  and 
affections,  im])lanted  in  our  hearts  by  the  Author  of  na- 
ture, arc  in  a  peculiar  manner  adapted  to  tlie  circum- 
stances of  life  in  whicli  he  hath  ])laced  us.  This  gene- 
ral observation,  properly  pursued,  leads  to  several  im- 

•  1  Cor.       8.  f  Serin,  vi. 


xxii 


PREFACE 


TDortant  conclusions.  The  original  internal  constitution 
of  man,  compared  with  his  external  condition,  enables 
us  to  discern  what  course  of  action  and  behaviour  that 
constitution  leads  to,  what  is  our  duty  respecting  that 
condition,  and  furnishes  us  besides  with  the  most  power- 
ful arguments  to  the  practice  of  it. 

What  the  inward  frame  and  constitution  of  man  is,  is  a 
question  of  fact ;  to  be  determined,  as  other  facts  are, 
from  experience,  from  our  internal  feelings  and  exter- 
nal senses,  and  from  the  testimony  of  others.  Whether 
human  nature,  and  the  circumstances  in  which  it  is  plac- 
ed, might  not  have  been  ordered  otherwise,  is  foreign  to 
our  inquiry,  and  none  of  our  concern :  our  province  is, 
taking  both  of  these  as  they  are,  and  viewing  the  con- 
nexion between  them,  from  that  connexion  to  discover 
if  we  can,  what  course  of  action  is  fitted  to  that  nature 
and  those  circumstances.  From  contemplating  the  bod- 
ily senses,  and  the  organs  or  instruments  adapted  to 
them,  we  learn  that  the  eye  was  given  to  see  with,  the 
ear  to  hear  with.  In  like  manner,  from  considering  our 
inward  perceptions  and  the  final  causes  of  them,  we  col- 
lect that  the  feeling  of  shame,  for  instance,  was  given  to 
prevent  the  doing  of  things  shameful ;  compassion,  to 
carry  us  to  relieve  others  in  distress;  anger,  to  resist 
sudden  violence  offered  to  ourselves.  If,  continuing  our 
inquiries  in  this  way,  it  should  at  length  appear,  that  the 
nature,  the  whole  nature,  of  man  leads  him  to  and  is  fit- 
ted for  that  particular  course  of  behaviour  which  we  usu- 
ally distinguish  by  the  name  of  virtue,  we  are  authoriz- 
ed to  conclude,  that  virtue  is  the  law  we  are  born  under, 
that  it  was  so  intended  by  the  Author  of  our  being ;  and 
we  are  bound  by  the  most  intimate  of  all  obligations,  a 
regard  to  our  own  highest  interest  and  happiness,  to 
conform  to  it  in  all  situations  and  events. 

Human  nature  is  not  simple  and  uniform,  but  made  up 
of  several  parts ;  and  we  can  have  no  just  idea  of  it  as  a 
system  or  constitution,  unless  we  take  into  our  view  the 
respects  and  relations  wliich  these  parts  have  to  each 
other.  As  the  body  is  not  one  member,  but  many ;  so 
our  inward  structure  consists  of  various  instincts,  appe- 
tites, and  propeusions.    Thus  far  there  is  no  difference 


BY  THE  EDITOR.  XXiU 

between  human  creatures  and  brutes.  But  besides  these 
common  passions  and  affections,  there  is  another  princi- 
ple, pecuhar  to  mankind,  that  of  conscience,  moral  sense, 
reflection,  call  it  what  you  please,  by  which  they  are  en- 
abled to  review  their  whole  conduct,  to  approve  of  some 
actions  in  themselves,  and  to  disapprove  of  others. 
That  this  principle  will  of  course  have  50/n^  influence  on 
our  behaviour,  at  least  at  times,  will  hardly  be  disputed : 
but  the  particular  influence  which  it  ought  to  have,  the  pre- 
cise degree  of  power  in  the  regulating  of  our  internal  frame 
that  is  assigned  it  by  Him  who  placed  it  there,  is  a  point 
of  the  utmost  consequence  in  itself,  and  on  the  deter- 
mination of  which  the  very  hinge  of  our  Author's  Moral 
System  turns.  If  the  faculty  here  spoken  of  be,  indeed, 
what  it  is  asserted  to  be,  in  nature  and  kind  superior  to 
every  other  passion  and  affection ;  if  it  be  given,  not 
merely  that  it  may  exert  its  force  occasionally,  or  as  our 
present  humour  or  fancy  may  dispo  «e  us,  but  that  it  may 
at  all  times  exercise  an  uncontrollable  authority  and  go- 
vernment over  all  the  rest ;  it  will  then  follow,  that,  in  or- 
der to  complete  the  idea  of  human  nature,  as  a  system, 
we  must  not  only  take  in  each  particular  bias,  propen- 
sion,  instinct,  which  are  seen  to  belong  to  it,  but  we 
must  add  besides  the  principle  of  conscience,  together 
with  the  subjection  that  is  due  to  it  from  all  the  other 
appetites  and  passions:  just  as  the  idea  of  a  civil  consti- 
tution is  formed,  not  barely  from  enumerating  the  seve- 
ral members  and  ranks  of  which  it  is  com])osed,  but 
from  these  considered  as  acting  in  various  degrees  of 
subordination  to  each  other,  and  all  under  the  direction 
of  the  same  supreme  authority,  whether  that  authority 
be  vested  in  one  person  or  more. 

The  view  here  given  of  the  internal  constitution  of  m.an, 
and  of  the  supremacy  of  conscience,  agreeably  to  the 
conceptions  of  Bishop  Butler,  enables  us  to  comprehend 
the  force  of  that  expression,  common  to  him  and  the  an- 
cient moralists,  that  virtue  consists  in  foJlowimj  nature. 
The  meaning  cannot  be,  that  it  consists  in  acting  agree- 
ably to  that  propensity  of  oui'  nature  which  happens  to 
be  the  str(iiig(\^t;  or  which  ])!()]:('ls  us  towards  certain 
objects,  without  \\\\\  vci-wA  \r  t!ie  methods  by  which 


xxiv 


PREFACE 


tliey  are  to  be  obtained  :  but  the  meaning  must  be,  ttiat 
virtue  consists  in  the  due  regulation  and  subjection  of  all 
the  other  appetites  and  affections  to  the  superior  faculty 
of  conscience;  from  a  conformity  to  which  alone  our  ac-- 
tions  are  properly  natural,  or  correspondent  to  the  na- 
ture, to  the  whole  nature,  of  such  an  agent  as  man. 
From  hence  too  it  appears,  that  the  author  of  our  frame 
is  by  no  means  indifferent  to  virtue  and  vice,  or  has  left 
us  at  liberty  to  act  at  random,  as  humour  or  appetite 
may  prompt  us;  but  that  every  man  has  the  rule  of  right 
within  him ;  a  rule  attended  in  the  very  notion  of  it  with 
authority,  and  such  as  has  the  force  of  a  direction  and  a 
command  from  Him  who  made  us  what  we  are,  what, 
course  of  behaviour  is  suited  to  our  nature,  and  which 
he  expects  that  we  should  follow.    This  moral  faculty 
implies  also  a  presentiment  and  apprehension,  that  the 
judgment  which  it  passes  on  our  actions,  considered  as 
of  good  or  ill  desert,  will  hereafter  be  confirmed  by  the 
unerring  judgment  of  God;  when  virtue  and  happiness,  , 
vice  and  misery,  whose  ideas  are  now  so  closely  connect- - 
ed,  shall  be  indissolubly  united,  and  the  divine  govern-  - 
ment  be  found  to  correspond  in  the  most  exact  propor-- 
tion  to  the  nature  he  has  given  us.    Lastly,  this  just- 
prerogative  or  supremacy  of  conscience  it  is,  which  Mr 
Pope  has  described  in  his  Universal  Prayer j  though 
perhaps  he  may  have  expressed  it  rather  too  strongly,, 
where  he  says, 

"What  conscience  dictates  to  be  done, 

Or  \vari)5  me  not  to  do, 
Ttiis  teacii  me  more  than  hell  to  shun, 

That  more  than  heaven  pursue." 

The  reader  will  observe,  that  this  way  of  treating  the 
subject  of  morals,  by  an  appeal  to  facts,  does  not  at  all 
interfere  with  that  other  way,  adopted  by  Dr  Samuel 
Clarke  and  others,  which  begins  with  inquiring  into  the 
relations  and  fitnesses  of  things,  but  rather  illustrates  and. 
confirms  it.  That  there  are  essential  differences  in  the 
qualities  of  human  actions,  established  by  nature,  and 
that  this  natural  difference  of  things,  prior  to  and  inde- 
pendent of  all  will,  creates  a  mxiuvA  fitness  in  the  agent 
to  act  agreeably  to  it,  seems  as  little  to  be  denied,  as 
that  there  is  the  moral  difference  before  explained,  from 


BY  THE  EDITOR.  XXV 

which  we  approve  and  feel  a  pleasure  in  what  is  right, 
and  conceive  a  distaste  to  what  is  wrong.  Still,  how- 
ever, when  we  are  endeavouring  to  establish  either  this 
moral  or  that  natural  difference,  it  ought  never  to  be 
forgotten,  or  rather  it  will  require  to  be  distinctly  shown, 
that  both  of  these,  when  traced  up  to  their  source,  sup- 
pose an  intelligent  Author  of  nature  and  moral  Ruler  of 
the  world ;  who  originally  appointed  these  differences, 
and  by  such  an  appointment  has  signified  his  will  that 
we  should  conform  to  them,  as  the  only  effectual  method 
of  securing  our  happiness  on  the  whole  under  his  govern- 
ment.* And  of  this  consideration  our  Prelate  himself 
was  not  unmindful ;  as  may  be  collected  from  many  ex- 
pressions in  different  parts  of  his  writings,  and  particu- 
larly from  the  following  passages  in  his  eleventh  Ser- 
mon. "  It  may  be  allowed,  without  any  prejudice  to 
the  cause  of  virtue  and  /eligion,  that  our  ideas  of  happi- 
ness and  misery  are  of  all  our  ideas  the  nearest  and 
most  important  to  us  ;  that  they  will,  nay  if  you  please,, 
they  ought  to  prevail  over  those  of  order,  and  beauty,  nrd 
harmony,  and  proportion,  if  there  should  ever  be,  as  it  is 
impossible  there  ever  should  be,  any  inconsistence  be- 
tween them."  And  again,  "  Though  virtue  or  moral 
rectitude  does  indeed  consist  in  affection  to  and  pursuit 
of  what  is  right  and  good,  as  such ;  yet,  when  we  sit 
down  in  a  cool  hour,  we  can  neither  justify  to  ourselves 
this  or  any  other  pursuit,  till  we  are  convinced  that  it 
will  be  for  our  happiness,  or  at  least  not  contrarv  to 
it."t 

Besides  the  general  system  of  morality  opened  above, 
our  Author  in  his  volume  of  Sermons  has  stated  with  ac- 
curacy the  difference  between  self-love  and  benevolence ; 

*  "  Far  1)P  it  from  mo,"  says  the  rxrrllrtit  Dr  T.  Bp'R^J  (Discourse  ix.)  to  dis- 
pute the  nalily  of  a  moral  principle  in  the  Intnian  h»art.  1  fet(  its  existence:  I 
rlearly  ilisccrn  its  use  and  importance.  Itiitiji  no  r(  sp«'Ci  is  it  mure  important,  than 
»s  it  siip£j<'sts  the  i(h  a  of  a  moral  (I nvernor.  ^l.vt  this  idea  be  once  etTacrd.  and  the 
principle  of  conscience  will  MK)n  he  foinid  wt-ak  ami  inetrrctual.  Its  influence  on 
men  s  con«luct  has,  indeed,  hern  too  vnnU  und  rvalurd  by  some  philoNophiral  in- 
«iuin-rs.  Hut  l)e  that  influence,  while  it  la^ts,  more  or  less,  it  is  not  a  sfraili/  inul 
jtermanent  principle  of  ncii»)n.  I'nhappiiy  we  always  liave  it  in  our  pow»  r  to  lay  it 
aslerp. — Xfflrrf  alone  will  snppn-ss  and  stifle  it,  and  hriiii:  it  ainuist  into  a  slate  ot 
Htupr  fact  inn.  N()r  can  any  thinir.  less  than  the  terrors  of  relipion.  nwak«-n  our  minds 
fron>  this  dangerous  and  deadly  sleep.  It  can  n«  v«T  be  a  main  r  t)t  ind  th nnce  to  4 
thtnktng  man,  whether  he  is  to  be  happy  or  misend)le  beyoml  Uie  grave." 

+  Serm.  xl. 


xxvi 


PREFACE 


in  opposition  to  those  who,  on  the  one  hand,  make  the 
whole  of  virtue  to  consist  in  benevolence,*  and  to  those 
who,  on  the  other,  assert  that  every  particular  affection 
and  action  is  resolvable  into  self-love.  In  combating 
these  opinions,  he  has  shown,  I  think  unanswerably, 
that  there  are  the  same  kind  of  indications  in  human 
nature,  that  we  were  made  to  promote  the  happiness  of 
others,  as  that  we  were  made  to  promote  our  own :  that 
it  is  no  just  objection  to  this,  that  we  have  dispositions 
to  do  evil  to  others  as  well  as  good ;  for  we  have  also 
dispositions  to  do  evil  as  well  as  good  to  ourselves,  to  our 
own  most  important  interests  even  in  this  life,  for  the 
sake  of  gratifying  a  present  passion  :  that  the  thing  to 
be  lamented  is,  not  that  men  have  too  great  a  regard  to 
their  own  real  good,  but  that  they  have  not  enough : 
that  benevolence  is  not  more  at  variance  with  or  un- 
friendly to  self-love,  than  any  other  particular  affection 
is  :  and  that  by  consulting  the  happiness  of  others  a 
man  is  so  far  from  lessening  his  own,  that  the  very  en- 
deavour to  do  so,  though  he  should  fail  in  the  accom- 
plishment, is  a  source  of  the  highest  satisfaction  and 
peace  of  mind.t  He  has  also,  in  passing,  animadverted 
on  the  philosopher  of  Malmsbury,  who,  in  his  book  "Of 
Human  Nature,"  has  advanced,  as  discoveries  in  moral 
science,  that  benevolence  is  only  the  love  of  power,  and 
compassion  the  fear  of  future  calamity  to  ourselves.  And 
this  our  Author  has  done,  not  so  much  with  the  design  of 
exposing  the  false  reasoning  of  Mr  Hobbes,  but  because 
on  so  perverse  an  account  of  human  nature  he  has  rais- 
ed a  system,  subversive  of  all  justice  and  honesty, f 

II.  The  rehgious  system  of  Bishop  Butler  is  chiefly 
to  be  collected  from  the  treatise,  entitled,  "  The  Analogy 
of  Religion,  Natural  and  Revealed,  to  the  Constitution 
and  Course  of  Nature."  i 

"All  things  are  double  one  against  another,  and  God 
hath  made  nothing  impcrfect."§  On  this  single  observa-, 
tion  of  the  son  of  Sirach,  the  whole  fabric  of  our  Prelate's 
defence  of  religion,  in  his  Analogy,  is  raised.  Instead 

*  See  the  second  Dissertation  "  On  the  Nature  of  Virtue,"  at  the  end  of  the 
Analojry. 

f  See  Senn.  i.  and  xi.  and  the  preface  to  the  volume  of  Scmions. 

X  See  the  Notes  to  Serui.  i.  and  v.  ^  Eccles.  xlii.  24. 


BY  THE  EDITOR.  XXVii 

of  indulging  in  idle  speculations,  how  the  world  might 
possibly  have  been  better  than  it  is;  or,  forgetful  of  the 
difference  between  hypothesis  and  fact,  attempting  to  ex- 
plain the  divine  economy  with  respect  to  intelligent  crea- 
tures, from  preconceived  notions  of  his  own;  he  first  in- 
quires what  the  constitution  of  nature,  as  made  known 
to  us  in  the  way  of  experiment,  actually  is  ;  and  from 
this,  now  seen  and  acknowledged,  he  endeavours  to  form 
a  judgment  of  that  larger  constitution,  which  religion  dis- 
covers to  us.    If  the  dispensation  of  Providence  we  are 
now  under,  considered  as  inhabitants  of  this  world,  and 
having  a  temporal  interest  to  secure  in  it,  be  found,  on 
examination,  to  be  analogous  to,  and  of  a  piece  with, 
that  further  dispensation,  which  relates  to  us  as  designed 
for  another  world,  in  which  we  have  an  eternal  interest, 
depending  on  our  behaviour  here ;  if  both  may  be  traced 
up  to  the  same  general  laws,  and  appear  to  be  carried  on 
according  to  the  same  plan  of  administration  ;  the  fair 
presumption  is,  that  both  proceed  from  one  and  the  samG 
Author.    And  if  the  principal  parts  objected  to  in  this 
latter  dispensation  be  similar  to  and  of  the  same  kind 
with  what  we  certainly  experience  under  the  former;  the 
objections,  being  clearly  inconclusive  in  one  case,  be- 
cause contradicted  by  plain  fact,  must,  in  all  reason,  be 
a-llowed  to  be  inconclusive  also  in  the  other. 

This  way  of  arguing  from  what  is  acknowledged  to 
•what  is  disputed,  from  things  known  to  other  things  that 
resemble  them,  from  that  part  of  the  divine  establish- 
ment which  is  exposed  to  our  view  to  that  more  impor- 
tant one  which  lies  beyond  it,  is  on  all  hands  confessed 
to  be  just.  By  this  method  Sir  Isaac  Newton  has  un- 
folded the  system  of  nature;  by  the  same  method  Bishop 
Butler  has  explained  the  system  of  grace;  and  thus,  to 
use  the  words  of  a  writer,  whom  T  quote  with  pleasure, 

has  formed  and  concluded  a  ha])])y  alliance  between 
faith  and  philosophy."* 

And  although  the  argument  from  analogy  be  allowed 
to  be  imperfect,  and  by  no  means  sufhcient  to  solve  all 
difficulties  respecting  the  government  of  God,  and  the 
designs  of  his  Providence  with  regard  to  mankind  (a 

*  Mr  Mainwaring*s  Diisrrtation,  j >rf  fixr<l  to  his  volume  of  Sermoiw. 


xxviii 


PREFACE 


degree  of  knowledge,  ;vliicli  we  are  not  furnished  with 
faculties  for  attaining,  at  least  in  the  present  state) ;  yet 
surely  it  is  of  importance  to  learn  from  it,  that  the  natu- 
ral and  moral  world  are  intimately  connected,  and  parts 
of  one  stupendous  whole  or  system  ;  and  that  the  chief 
objections  which  are  brought  against  religion  may  be 
urged  with  equal  force  against  the  constitution  and  course 
of  nature,  where  they  are  certainly  false  in  fact.  And 
this  information  we  may  derive  from  the  work  before 
us;  the  proper  design  of  which,  it  may  be  of  use  to  ob- 
serve, is  not  to  prove  the  truth  of  religion,  either  natural 
or  revealed,  but  to  confirm  that  proof,  already  known, 
by  considerations  from  analogy. 

After  this  account  of  the  method  of  reasoning  employ- 
ed by  our  Author,  let  us  now  advert  to  his  manner  of 
applying  it,  first  to  the  subject  of  Natural  Religion,  and 
secondly  to  that  of  Revealed. 

1.  The  foundation  of  all  our  hopes  and  fears  is  a  fu- 
ture life ;  and  with  this  the  treatise  begins.  Neither  the 
reason  of  the  thing,  nor  the  analogy  of  nature,  according 
to  Bishop  Butler,  give  ground  for  imagining,  that  the 
unknown  event,  death,  will  be  our  destruction.  The 
states  in  which  we  have  formerly  existed,  in  the  womb 
and  in  infancy,  are  not  more  different  from  each  other 
than  from  that  of  mature  a2:e  in  which  we  now  exist : 

a 

therefore,  that  we  shall  continue  to  exist  hereafter,  in  a 
state  as  different  from  the  present  as  the  present  is  from 
those  through  which  we  have  passed  already,  is  a  pre- 
sumption favoured  by  the  analogy  of  nature.  All  that 
we  know  from  reason  concerning  death,  is  the  effects  it 
has  upon  animal  bodies :  and  the  frequent  instances 
among  men  of  the  intellectual  powers  continuing  in  high 
health  and  vigour,  at  the  very  time  when  a  mortal  disease 
is  on  the  point  of  putting  an  end  to  all  the  powers  of 
sensation,  induce  us  to  hope  that  it  may  have  no  effect 
at  all  on  the  human  soul,  not  even  so  much  as  to  sus- 
pend the  exercise  of  its  faculties  ;  though,  if  it  have,  the 
suspension  of  a  power  by  no  means  implies  its  ex- 
tinction, as  sleep  or  a  swoon  may  convince  us.* 

The  probability  of  a  future  state  once  granted,  an  im^ 

♦  Purtl.  chap.  i. 


liY  THE  EDITOR. 


xxix 


portant  question  arises,  How  best  to  secure  our  interest 
in  that  state.  We  find  from  wiiat  passes  daily  before  us, 
that  the  constitution  of  nature  admits  of  misery  as  well 
as  happiness ;  that  both  of  these  are  the  consequences  of 
our  own  actions ;  and  these  consequences  we  are  enabled 
to  foresee.  Therefore,  that  our  happiness  or  misery  in 
a  future  world  may  depend  on  our  own  actions  also,  and 
that  rewards  or  punishments  hereafter  may  follow  our 
good  or  ill  behaviour  here,  is  but  an  appointment  of  the 
same  sort  with  what  we  experience  under  the  divine 
government,  according  to  the  regular  course  of  nature.* 
This  supposition  is  confirmed  from  another  circum- 
stanc?,  that  the  natural  government  of  God,  under  which 
we  now  live,  is  also  moral;  in  which  rewards  and  pun- 
ishments are  the  consequences  of  actions,  considered  as 
virtuous  and  vicious.  Not  that  every  man  is  rewarded 
or  punished  here  in  exact  proportion  to  his  desert;  for 
the  essential  tendencies  of  virtue  and  vice,  to  produce 
happiness  and  the  contrary,  are  often  hindered  from  tak- 
ing effect  from  accidental  causes.  However,  there  are 
plainly  the  rudiments  and  beginnings  of  a  righteous  ad- 
ministration to  be  discerned  in  the  constitution  of  nature : 
from  whence  we  are  led  to  expect,  that  these  accidental 
hindrances  will  one  day  be  removed,  and  the  rule  of  dis- 
tributive justice  obtain  completely  in  a  more  perfect 
state.! 

The  moral  government  of  God,  thus  established,  im- 
plies in  the  notion  of  it  some  sort  of  trial,  or  a  moral 
possibility  of  acting  wrong  as  well  as  right,  in  those  who 
are  the  subjects  of  it.  And  the  doctrine  of  religion,  that 
the  present  life  is  in  fact  a  state  of  probation  for  a  future 
one,  is  rendered  credible,  from  its  being  analogous 
throughout  to  the  general  conduct  of  Providence  towards 
us  with  respect  to  this  world ;  in  which  prudence  is  ne- 
cessary to  secure  our  temporal  interest,  just  as  we  are 
taught  that  virtue  is  necessary  to  secure  our  eternal  in- 
terest; and  both  are  trusted  to  ourselvcs.t 

But  the  present  life  is  not  niorcly  a  state  of  probation, 
implying  in  it  difficulties  and  danger;  it  is  also  a  state  of 
discipline  and  improvement;  and  that  both  in  our  tem- 

*  Chap.  ii.  f  Chop.  iii.  %  Chap.  iv. 


XXX 


PREFACE 


poral  and  religious  capacity.  Thus  childhood  is  a  state 
of  discipline  for  youth;  youth  for  manhood;  and  that  for 
old  age.  Strength  of  body,  and  maturity  of  understand- 
ing, are  acquired  by  degrees ;  and  neither  of  them  with- 
out continual  exercise  and  attention  on  our  part,  not  on- 
ly in  the  beginning  of  life,  but  through  the  whole  course 
of  it.  So  again  with  respect  to  our  religious  concerns, 
the  present  world  is  fitted  to  be,  and  to  good  men  is  in 
event,  a  state  of  discipline  and  improvement  for  a  future 
one.  The  several  passions  and  propensions  implanted 
in  our  hearts  incline  us,  in  a  multitude  of  instances,  to 
forbidden  pleasures:  this  inward  infirmity  is  increased 
by  various  snares  and  temptations,  perpetually  occurring 
from  without:  hence  arises  the  necessity  of  recollection 
and  self-government,  of  withstanding  the  calls  of  appetite, 
and  forming  our  minds  to  habits  of  piety  and  virtue ; 
habits,  of  which  we  are  capable,  and  which,  to  creatures 
in  a  state  of  moral  imperfection,  and  fallen  from  their 
original  integrity,  must  be  of  the  greatest  use,  as  an  ad- 
ditional security,  over  and  above  the  principle  of  con- 
science, from  the  dangers  to  which  we  are  exposed.* 

Nor  is  the  credibility  here  given,  by  the  analogy  of 
nature,  to  the  general  doctrine  of  religion,  destroyed  or 
weakened  by  any  notions  concerning  necessity.  Of  it- 
self it  is  a  mere  word,  the  sign  of  an  abstract  idea ;  and 
as  much  requires  an  agent,  that  is,  a  necessary  agent,  in 
order  to  effect  any  thing,  as  freedom  requires  a  free 
agent.  Admitting  it  to  be  speculatively  true,  if  consid- 
ered as  influencing  practice,  it  is  the  same  as  false :  for  it 
is  matter  of  experience,  that,  with  regard  to  our  present 
interest,  and  as  inhabitants  of  this  world,  we  are  treated 
as  if  we  were  free ;  and  therefore  the  analogy  of  nature 
leads  us  to  conclude,  that,  with  regard  to  our  future  in- 
terest, and  as  designed  for  another  world,  we  shall  be 
treated  as  free  also.  Nor  does  the  opinion  of  necessity, 
supposing  it  possible,  at  all  affect  either  the  general  proof 
of  religion,  or  its  external  evidence.t 

Still  objections  may  be  made  against  the  wisdom  and 
goodness  of  the  divine  government,  to  which  analogy, 
which  can  only  show  the  truth  or  credibility  of  facts, 

»  Part  I.  chap.  v.  t  Chap.  vi. 


BY  THE  EDITOR. 


xxxi 


affords  no  answer.  Yet  even  here  analogy  is  of  use,  il 
it  suggest  that  the  divine  government  is  a  scheme  or 
system,  and  not  a  number  of  unconnected  acts,  and  that 
this  svstem  is  aiso  above  our  comprehension.  Now  the 
government  of  the  natural  world  appears  to  be  a  system 
of  this  kind;  with  parts,  related  to  each  other,  and  to- 
gether composing  a  whole:  in  which  system  ends  are 
brought  about  by  the  use  of  means,  many  of  which  means, 
before  experience,  would  have  been  suspected  to  have 
had  a  quite  contrary  tendency ;  which  is  carried  on  by 
general  laws,  similar  causes  uniformly  producing  simi- 
lar effects :  the  utility  of  which  general  laws,  and  the  in- 
conveniences which  would  probably  arise  from  the  oc- 
casional or  even  secret  suspension  of  them,  we  are  in 
some  sort  enabled  to  discern;*  but  of  the  whole  we  are 
incompetent  judges,  because  of  the  small  part  which 
comes  within  our  view.  Reasoning  then  from  what  we 
know,  it  is  highly  credible,  that  the  government  of  the 
moral  world  is  a  system  also,  carried  on  by  general  laws, 
and  in  which  ends  are  accomplished  by  the  intervention 
of  means;  and  that  both  constitutions,  the  natural » and 
the  moral,  are  so  connected,  as  to  form  together  but  one 
scheme.  But  of  this  scheme,  as  of  that  of  the  natural 
world  taken  alone,  we  are  not  qualified  to  judge,  on  ac- 
count of  the  mutual  respect  of  the  several  parts  to  each 
other  and  to  the  whole,  and  our  own  incapacity  to  sur- 
vey the  whole,  or,  with  accuracy,  any  single  part.  All 
objections  therefore  to  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  the 
divine  government  may  be  founded  merely  on  our  ig- 
norance;! and  to  such  objections  our  ignorance  is  the 
proper,  and  a  satisfactory  answer.}: 

2.  The  chief  difficulties  concerning  Natural  Religion 
being  now  removed,  our  Author  proceeds,  in  the  next 
place,  to  that  which  is  Revealed;  and  as  an  Introduction 
to  an  inquiry  into  the  Credibility  of  Christianitv,  begins 
with  the  consideration  of  it-  Importance. 

•  See  n  treatise  on  Divine  B<'npv(J  nrr,  hy  Dr  Tlionins  Balpiiy,  part  ii. 
T  f^''  ipf">rance  of  man,  is  a  favouriu-  .li.<  ;riiit'  with  Ui.shoi.  Huil,  r.    It  (K-curs  in 
the  jHCMul  Fart  of  lJu-  Analogy  ;  it  n.ak.  >  tlu-  Mil.j.  ri  of  hi.  F.fu  r.uh  S,  n„o,. ;  aiKi 
we  nm  t  wah  it  i.pun  in  his  Cliargo.    \Vh,  tlu  r  ^oaivuiu^^  it  Ik-  nut  carrit  d  to  a 
length  which  is  exct^Sbive,  may  miniii  of  »!nuht. 

X  I'urt  1.  chap.  vii. 


xxxii 


PREFACE 


The  importance  of  Christianity  appears  in  two  re- 
spects. First,  in  its  being  a  republication  of  Natural  Re- 
ligion, in  its  native  simplicity,  with  authority,  and  with 
circumstances  of  advantage ;  ascertaining  in  many  in- 
stances of  moment,  what  before  was  only  probable,  and 
particularly  confirming  the  doctrine  of  a  future  state  of 
rewards  and  punishments.*  Secondly,  as  revealing  a 
new  dispensation  of  Providence,  originating  from  the 
pure  love  and  mercy  of  God,  and  conducted  by  the  me- 
diation of  his  Son,  and  the  guidance  of  his  Spirit  for  the 
recovery  and  salvation  of  mankind,  represented  In  a 
state  of  apostasy  and  ruin.  This  account  of  Christianity 
being  admitted  to  be  just,  and  the  distinct  offices  of  these 
three  divine  Persons  being  once  discovered  to  us,  we 
are  as  much  obliged  in  point  of  duty  to  acknowledge  the 
relations  we  stand  in  to  the  Son  and  Holy  Ghost,  as  our 
Mediator  and  Sanctifier,  as  we  are  obliged  in  point  oi 
duty  to  acknowledge  the  relation  we  stand  in  to  God  the 
Father;  although  the  two  former  of  these  relations  be 
learnt  from  Revelation  only,  and  in  the  last  we  are  in- 
structed by  the  hght  of  nature;  the  obhgation  in  either 
case  arising  from  the  offices  themselves,  and  not  at  all 
depending  on  the  manner  in  which  they  are  made 
known  to  us.t 

The  presumptions  against  Revelation  in  general  are, 
that  it  is  not  discoverable  by  reason,  that  it  is  unlike  to 
what  is  so  discovered,  and  that  it  was  introduced  and 
supported  by  miracles.    But  in  a  scheme  so  large  as 

*  Admirable  to  this  purpose  are  the  words  of  Dr  T.  Balguy,  in  the  Ninth  of  his 
Discourses  already  referred  to,  p.  xxv.  "The  doctrine  of  a  life  to  come,  some  per- 
sons will  say,  is  a  doctrine  of  natural  religion  ;  and  can  never  therefore  be  properly 
alleged  to  show  the  importance  of  revelation.  Tliey  judge  perhaps  from  the  frame 
of  the  world,  that  the  present  system  is  imperfect ;  thry  see  designs  in  it,  not  yet 
completed ;  and  tlu  y  think  they  have  grounilN  tor  ♦  xpecting  anotlier  slate,  in  which 
these  (hsigub  shall  he  farther  canird  on,  and  hron^ht  to  a  conclusion,  worthy  of  in 
finite  wisdom.  I  am  not  concerned  to  ilispute  justness  of  this  reasoning  ;  nor  do 
I  wish  to  dispute  it.  ]3iil  how  far  will  it  reach.?  W  ill  it  lead  us  to  the  Christian 
d>)Ctrine  of  a  judgment  to  come?  AV'ill  it  give  us  the  prospect  of  an  eternity  of  hap- 
piness Nothing  of  all  this.  It  shows  us  only,  tliat  death  is  not  tiu-  i-nd  of  our  be- 
ing ;  that  we  are  likely  (o  i)ass  hereafu  r  into  oUu  r  systems,  more  favourable  tiian  the 
present  to  the  great  ends  of  (iod's  providence,  tlie  i>;>/we  and  t\\v  happittess  of  his  in- 
telligent creatures.  But  lulo  irhat  syst«  nis  we  are  to  be  removed  ;  what  new  scenes 
are  to  be  presented  to  us,  either  of  pleasure  or  pain  ;  what  new  parts  we  shall  have 
to  act,  and  to  what  trials  and  t«Mnplations  we  )uay  yet  l)e  exposed ;  on  all  these  sub- 
jects we  know  just  nothing.  That  our  happiness  for  ever  depends  on  our  conduct 
/iere,  in  a  most  important  proposition.  whicJi  \\v  learn  o?tly(rom  revelation," 

+  Tart  11.  chap.  i. 


BY  THE  EDITOR. 


xxxiii 


that  of  the  universe,  unbounded  in  extent  and  everlast- 
ing in  duration,  there  must  of  necessity  be  numberless 
orcumstances  which  are  beyond  the  reach  of  our  faculties 
to  discern,  and  which  can  only  be  known  by  divine  illu- 
mination.   And  both  in  the  natural  and  moral  govern- 
ment of  the  world,  under  which  we  live,  we  find  many 
things  unlike  one  to  another,  and  therefore  ought  not  to 
wonder  if  the  same  unlikeness  obtain  between  things 
visible  and  invisible  ;  although  it  be  far  from  true,  that 
revealed  rehgion  is  entirely  unlike  the  constitution  of 
nature,  as  analogy  may  teach  us.    Nor  is  there  any  thing 
incredible  in  Revelation,  considered  as  miraculous ;  whe- 
ther miracles  be  supposed  to  have  been  performed 
at  the  beginning  of  the  world,  or  after  a  course  of  nature 
has  been  established.    Not  at  the  beginning  of  the  world; 
for  then  there  was  either  no  course  of  nature  at  all,  or  a 
power  must  have  been  exerted  totally  different  from 
what  that  course  is  at  present :  all  men  and  animals  can- 
not have  been  born,  as  they  are  now ;  but  a  pair  of  each 
sort  must  have  been  produced  at  first,  in  a  way  alto- 
gether unlike  to  that  in  which  they  have  been  since  pro- 
duced ;  unless  we  affirm,  that  men  and  animals  have  ex- 
isted from  eternity  in  an  endless  succession ;  one  miracle 
therefore  at  least  there  must  have  been  at  the  beginning 
of  the  world,  or  at  the  time  of  man's  creation.    Not  af^ 
ier  the  settlement  of  a  course  of  nature,  on  account  of  mir- 
acles being  contrary  to  that  course,  or,  in  other  words, 
contrary  to  experience;  for,  in  order  to  know  whether 
miracles,  worked  in  attestation  of  a  divine  religion,  be 
contrary  to  experience  or  not,  we  ought  to  be  acquainted 
with  other  cases,  similar  or  parallel  to  those,  in  which 
miracles  are  alleged  to  have  been  wrought.    But  where 
shall  we  find  such  similar  or  parallel  cases?  The  world 
which  we  inhabit  affords  none:  we  know  of  no  extraor- 
dinary revelations  from  God  to  man,  but  those  recorded 
in  the  Old  and  New  Testament;  all  of  which  Avcre  es- 
tablished by  miracles;  it  cannot  therefore  be  said,  that 
miracles  arc  incredible,  because  contrary  to  cx])crience, 
when  all  the  experience  we  have  is  in  favour  of  miracles, 
and  on  the  side  of  religion**    Besides,  in  reasoning  con- 

•    In  the  common  afEairs  of  life,  common  ejtjycrience  is  suflScient  to  direct  us.  But 

C 


xxxiv 


PREFACE 


cerning  miracles,  they  ought  not  to  be  compared  with 
common  natural  events,  but  with  uncommon  appear- 
ances, such  as  comets,  magnetism,  electricity;  which,  to 
one  acquainted  only  with  the  usual  phenomena  of  nature, 
and  the  common  powers  of  matter,  must,  before  proof  of 
their  actual  existence,  be  thought  incredible. # 

The  presumption  against  Revelation  in  general  being 
dispatched,  objections  against  the  Christian  Revelation 
in  particular,  against  the  scheme  of  it,  as  distinguished 
from  objections  against  its  evidence,  are  considered 
next.  Now  supposing  a  revelation  to  be  really  given,  it 
is  highly  probable  beforehand,  that  it  must  contain  ma- 
ny things  appearing  to  us  liable  to  objections.  The  ac- 
knowledged dispensation  of  nature  is  very  different  from 
what  we  should  have  expected  :  reasoning  then  from  an- 
alogy, the  revealed  dispensation,  it  is  credible,  would  be 
also  different.  Nor  are  we  in  any  sort  judges  at  what 
time,  or  in  what  degree,  or  manner,  it  is  fit  or  expedient 
for  God  to  instruct  us,  in  things  confessedly  of  the  great- 
est use,  either  by  natural  reason,  or  by  supernatural  in- 
formation. Thus,  arguing  on  speculation  only,  and 
without  experience,  it  would  seem  very  unlikely  that  so 
important  a  remedy  as  that  provided  by  Christianity,  for 
the  recovery  of  mankind  from  ruin,  should  have  been  for 
so  many  ages  withheld;  and,  when  at  last  vouchsafed, 
should  be  imparted  to  so  few ;  and,  after  it  has  been  im- 
parted, should  be  attended  with  obscurity  and  doubt. 
And  just  so  we  might  have  argued,  before  experience, 
concerning  the  remedies  provided  in  nature  for  bodily 
diseases,  to  which  by  nature  we  are  exposed:  for  many 
of  these  were  unknown  to  mankind  for  a  number  of  ages ; 

will  common  experience  serve  to  guide  our  judgment  concerning  the  fall  and  redemp* 
Hon  of  mankind?  From  what  we  see  every  day,  can  we  explain  the  covimencer/ienty 
or  foretell  the  dissolution  of  the  world  ?  To  judge  of  events  like  these,  we  should 
be  conversant  in  the  history  of  other  planets ;  should  be  distinctly  informed  of  God's 
various  dispensations  lo  all  the  different  orders  of  rational  beings.  Instead  then  of 
grounding  our  religious  opinions  on  what  we  call  experience,  let  us  apply  to  a  more 
certain  guide,  let  us  hfarken  to  the  testimony  of  (J(xl  himself.  The  credibility  of 
human  testimony,  and  the  conduct  of  human  agents,  are  sulijccts  perfectly  within  the 
reach  of  our  natural  faculties  ;  and  we  ought  to  desire  no  firmer  foundation  for  our 
belief  of  religion,  than  for  the  judgments  u  e  form  in  the  conunon  afiiiirs  of  life  : 
■where  we  see  a  little  plain  testimony  easily  outweighs  the  most  .s|)ecious  conjectures, 
and  not  seldom  even  strong  prohahilities."  Dr  Itiilguy's  I'ourth  Charge.  See  also 
an  excellent  pamphlet,  entitled.  "Remarks  on  Mr  Hume's  Kssay  on  the  Natural 
History  of  Religion,"  sect.  5  ;  and  the  Sixth  of  l)r  Towell's  Discourses. 


BY  THE  EDITOR. 


XXXV 


are  known  but  to  few  now;  some  important  ones  prob- 
ably not  discovered  yet;  and  those  which  are,  neither 
certain  in  their  appHcation,  nor  universal  in  their  use: 
and  the  same  mode  of  reasoning  that  would  lead  us  to 
expect  they  should  have  been  so,  would  lead  us  to  ex- 
pect that  the  necessity  of  them  should  have  been  super- 
seded, by  there  being  no  diseases ;  as  the  necessity  of  the 
Christian  scheme,  it  may  be  thought,  might  also  have 
been  superseded,  by  preventing  the  fall  of  man,  so  that 
he  should  not  have  stood  in  need  of  a  Redeemer  at  all.* 

As  to  objections  against  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of 
Christianity,  the  same  answer  may  be  applied  to  them 
as  was  to  the  like  objections  against  the  constitution  of 
nature.  For  here  also,  Christianity  is  a  scheme  or  econ- 
omy, composed  of  various  parts,  forming  a  whole;  in 
which  scheme  means  are  used  for  the  accomplishing  of 
ends ;  and  which  is  conducted  by  general  laws,  of  all  of 
which  we  know  as  little  as  we  do  of  the  constitution  of 
nature.  And  the  seeming  want  of  wisdom  or  goodness 
in  this  system  is  to  be  ascribed  to  the  same  cause,  as  the 
like  appearances  of  defects  in  the  natural  system;  our 
inabihty  to  discern  the  whole  scheme,  and  our  ignorance 
of  the  relation  of  those  parts  which  are  discernible  to 
others  beyond  our  view. 

The  objections  against  Christianity  as  a  matter  of  fact, 
and  against  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  it,  having  been 
obviated  together,  the  chief  of  them  are  now  to  be  con- 
sidered distinctly.  One  of  these,  which  is  levelled 
against  the  entire  system  itself,  is  of  this  sort:  the  re- 
storation of  mankind,  represented  in  Scripture  as  the 
great  design  of  the  Gospel,  is  described  as  requiring  a 
long  series  of  means,  and  persons,  and  dispensations, 
before  it  can  be  brought  to  its  completion;  whereas  the 
whole  ought  to  have  been  effected  at  once.  Now  every 
thing  we  see  in  the  course  of  nature  shows  the  folly  of 
this  objection.  For  in  the  natural  course  of  Providence, 
ends  are  brought  about  by  means,  not  operating  imme- 
diately and  at  once,  but  deliberately,  and  in  a  way  of  pro- 
gression; one  thing  being  subservient  to  another,  this  to 
somewhat  fui'ther.    The  change  of  seasons,  the  ripening 

*  Chhp.  iiL 


xxxvi 


PREFACE 


of  fruits,  the  growth  of  vegetable  and  animal  bodies,  are 
instances  of  this.  And  therefore,  that  the  same  pro- 
gressive method  should  be  followed  in  the  dispensation 
of  Christianity,  as  is  observed  in  the  common  dispensa- 
tion of  Providence,  is  a  reasonable  expectation,  justified 
by  the  analogy  of  nature.* 

Another  circumstance  objected  to  in  the  Christian 
scheme  is  the  appointment  of  a  Mediator,  and  the  sav- 
ing of  the  world  through  him.  But  the  visible  govern- 
ment of  God  being  actually  administered  in  this  way,  or 
by  the  mediation  and  instrumentality  of  others,  there 
can  be  no  general  presumption  against  an  appointment 
of  this  kind,  against  his  invisible  government  being  ex- 
ercised in  the  same  manner.  We  have  seen  already, 
that  with  regard  to  ourselves  this  visible  government  is 
carried  on  by  rewards  and  punishments;  for  happiness 
and  misery  are  the  consequences  of  our  own  actions, 
considered  as  virtuous  and  vicious ;  and  these  conse- 
quences we  are  enabled  to  foresee.  It  might  have  been 
imagined,  before  consulting  experience,  that  after  we 
had  rendered  ourselves  liable  to  misery  by  our  own  ill 
conduct,  sorrow  for  what  was  past,  and  behaving  well 
for  the  future,  would,  alone  and  of  themselves,  have  ex- 
empted us  from  deserved  punishment,  and  restored  us  to 
the  divine  favour.  But  the  fact  is  otherwise ;  and  real 
reformation  is  often  found  to  be  of  no  avail,  so  as  to  se- 
cure the  criminal  from  poverty,  sickness,  infamy,  and 
death,  the  never-failing  attendants  on  vice  and  extrava- 
gance, exceeding  a  certain  degree.  By  the  course  of 
nature  then  it  appears,  God  does  not  always  pardon  a 
sinner  on  his  repentance.  Yet  there  is  provision  made, 
even  in  nature,  that  the  miseries,  which  men  bring  on 
themselves  by  unlawful  indulgences,  may  in  many  cases 
be  mitigated,  and  in  some  removed  ;  partly  by  extraor- 
dinary exertions  of  the  offender  himself,  but  more  es- 
pecially and  frequently  by  the  intervention  of  others, 
who  voluntarily,  and  from  motives  of  compassion,  submit 
to  labour  and  sorrow,  such  as  produce  long  and  lasting 
inconveniences  to  themselves,  as  the  means  of  rescuing 
another  from  the  wretched  effects  of  former  imprudences, 

*  Chap,  iv. 


BY  THE  EDITOR. 


xxxvii 


V^icarious  punishment,  therefore,  or  one  person's  suffer- 
ings contributing  to  the  rehef  of  another,  is  a  providential 
disposition  in  the  economy  of  nature  and  it  ought  not 
to  be  matter  of  surprise,  if  by  a  method  analogous  to  this 
we  be  redeemed  from  sin  and  misery,  in  the  economy 
of  grace.  That  mankind  at  present  are  in  a  state  of  de- 
gradation, different  from  that  in  which  they  were  origi- 
nally created,  is  the  very  ground  of  the  Christian  reve- 
lation, as  contained  in  the  Scriptures.  Whether  we  ac- 
quiesce in  the  account,  that  our  being  placed  in  such  a 
state  is  owing  to  the  crime  of  our  first  parents,  or  choose 
to  ascribe  it  to  any  other  cause,  it  makes  no  difference 
as  to  our  condition:  the  vice  and  unhappiness  of  the 
world  are  still  there,  notwithstanding  all  our  supposi- 
tions: nor  is  it  Christianity  that  hath  put  us  into  this 
state.  We  learn  also  from  the  same  Scriptures,  what 
experience  and  the  use  of  expiatory  sacrifices  from  the 
most  early  times  might  have  taught  us,  that  repentance 
alone  is  not  sufficient  to  prevent  the  fatal  consequences 
of  past  transgressions:  but  that  still  there  is  room  for 
mercy,  and  that  repentance  shall  be  available,  though 
not  of  itself,  yet  through  the  mediation  of  a  divine  Per- 
son, the  Messiah;  who,  from  the  sublimest  principles  of 
compassion,  when  we  were  dead  in  trespasses  and  shis,t 
"  suffered  and  died,  the  innocent  for  the  guilty,  the  just  for 
the  wijiistyX  that  we  miglit  have  redemption  through  his 
blood,  even  the  forgiveness  of  sins.%  In  what  way  the 
death  of  Christ  was  of  that  eiiicacy  it  is  said  to  be,  in 
procuring  the  reconciliation  of  sinners,  the  Scriptures 
have  not  explained;  it  is  enough  that  the  doctrine  is  re- 
vealed; that  it  is  not  contrary  to  any  truths  which 
reason  and  experience  teach  us;  and  that  it  accords  in 

•  Dr  Artlmr  Aslslcy  Sykrs,  from  wliose  writinj^s  sonio  pootl  may  l)e  collectnl  out  ol 
n  miiltitiKlr  of  tliiiifrs  of  a  ooiitniry  tciidniry,  in  wlial  lie  is  plcasdl  to  call  "Tlie 
Scrij»tiin'  Dodriiu'  of  RcdcinpLion,"  {svv  Llir  obscrvalioiis  on  llie  t»  xts  ci(«  tl  in  his 
fir>t  cluiptrr,  itnd  also  in  cli;i|ii«'rs  '.lie  fifth  and  sixth.)  opposes  what  is  lu-rc  ndvancfd 
by  Itishop  liiitU  r;  quoLin<»'  his  wonls,  hut  without  inrulioninu  his  nanir.  If  what  is 
said  !ib<jv<'.  be  not  thou};hl  a  s-ufBcu-nt  answer  to  the  obj<cii()ns  of  this  author,  Uio 
reader  nii'.y  (io  well  to  rousidt  a  Charge  "  On  the  I'se  and  Abuse  of  IMiilo^ophy  in 
Uie  Study  of  I{elii:;ion,"  by  the  late  Dr  Powell  ;  who  seems  to  lue  to  liave  htul  the 
observations  of  Dr  Sykes  in  his  view,  where  he  is  corfutirf;  the  rer.soniiips  of  certaiu 
phil()sophi7.in«j;  Divines  against  the  ilocLrine  of  tlio  Atonement.  Powtll  s  Discourse, 
Charge  in.  p.  312— 18. 

t  Ephes.  ii.  1.  i  1  Pet.  iii.  18.  §  Colos.  i.  14 


xxxvili 


PREFACE 


perfect  harmony  with  the  usual  method  of  the  divine 
conduct  in  the  government  of  the  world.* 

Again,  it  hath  been  said,  that  if  the  Christian  revela- 
tion were  true,  it  must  have  been  universal,  and  could 
not  have  been  left  upon  doubtful  evidence.  But  God, 
in  his  natural  providence,  dispenses  his  gifts  in  great 
variety,  not  only  among  creatures  of  the  same  species, 
but  to  the  same  individuals  also  at  different  times.  Had 
the  Christian  revelation  been  universal  at  first,  yet,  from 
the  diversity  of  men's  abilities,  both  of  mind  and  body, 
their  various  means  of  improvement,  and  other  external 
advantages,  some  persons  must  soon  have  been  in  a  si- 
tuation, with  respect  to  religious  knowledge,  much  supe- 
rior to  that  of  others,  as  much  perhaps  as  they  are  at 
present :  and  all  men  will  be  equitably  dealt  with  at  last ; 
and  to  whom  little  is  given,  of  him  little  will  be  required. 
Then  as  to  the  evidence  for  religion  being  left  doubtful, 
difficulties  of  this  sort,  like  difficulties  in  practice,  afford 
scope  and  opportimity  for  a  virtuous  exercise  of  the  un- 
derstanding, and  dispose  the  mind  to  acquiesce  and  rest 
satisfied  with  any  evidence  that  is  real.  In  the  daily 
commerce  of  life,  men  are  obliged  to  act  upon  great  un- 
certainties, with  regard  to  success  in  their  temporal  pur- 
suits :  and  the  case  with  regard  to  rehgion  is  parallel. 
However,  though  religion  be  not  intuitively  true,  the 
proofs  of  it  which  we  have  are  amply  sufficient  in  reason 
to  induce  us  to  embrace  it ;  and  dissatisfaction  with  those 
proofs  may  possibly  be  men's  own  fault.t 

Nothing  remains  but  to  attend  to  the  positive  evidence 
there  is  for  the  truth  of  Christianity.  Now,  besides  its  di- 
rect and  fundamental  proofs,  which  are  miracles  and  pro- 
phecies, there  are  many  collateral  circumstances,  which 
may  be  united  into  one  view,  and  all  together  may  be  con- 
sidered as  making  up  one  argument.  In  this  way  ol 
treating  the  subject,  the  revelation,  whether  real  or  other- 
wise, may  be  supposed  to  be  wholly  historical :  the  de- 
sign of  which  appears  to  be,  to  give  an  account  of  the 
condition  of  religion,  and  its  professors,  with  a  concise 
narration  of  the  political  state  of  things,  as  far  as  religion 
is  affected  by  it,  during  a  great  length  of  time,  near  six 

»  Chap.  V.  f  Chap.  vL 


BY  THE  EDITOR. 


xxxix 


thousand  years  of  which  are  ah'eady  past.  More  parti- 
cularly it  comprehends  an  account  of  God's  entering  into 
covenant  with  ono  nation,  the  Jewf?,  tbit  he  would  be 
their  God,  and  that  they  should  be  his  people ;  of  his 
often  interposing  in  their  affairs;  gi'^'ing  them  the  pro- 
mise, and  afterwards  the  possession,  of  a  flourishing 
country;  assuring  them  of  the  greatest  national  prosper- 
ity, in  case  of  their  obedience,  and  threatening  the  sever- 
est national  punishment,  in  case  they  forsook  him,  and 
joined  in  the  idolatry  of  their  Pagan  neighbours.  It 
contains  also  a  prediction  of  a  particular  person  to  ap- 
pear in  the  fulness  of  time,  in  whom  all  the  promises  of 
God  to  the  Jews  were  to  be  fulfilled :  and  it  relates,  that, 
at  the  time  expected,  a  person  did  actually  appear,  as- 
suming to  be  the  Saviour  foretold  ;  that  he  worked  vari- 
ous miracles  among  them,  in  confirmation  of  his  divine 
authority ;  and,  as  was  foretold  also,  was  rejected  and 
put  to  death  by  the  very  people  who  had  long-  desired 
and  waited  for  his  coming  ;  but  that  his  religion,  in  spite 
of  all  opposition,  was  established  in  the  world  by  his  dis- 
ciples, invested  with  supernatural  powers  for  that  pur- 
pose ;  of  the  fate  and  fortunes  of  which  religion  there  is 
a  prophetical  description,  carried  down  to  the  end  of 
time.  Let  any  one  now,  after  reading  the  above  history, 
and  not  knowing  whether  the  whole  were  not  a  fiction, 
be  supposed  to  ask.  Whether  all  that  is  here  related  be 
true  ?  and  instead  of  a  direct  answer,  let  him  be  inform- 
ed of  the  several  acknowledged  facts,  which  are  found 
to  correspond  to  it  in  real  life ;  and  then  kt  him  com- 
pare the  history  and  facts  togetlier,  and  obsers'e  the  as- 
tonishing coincidence  of  both  :  such  a  joint  review  must 
appear  to  him  of  very  great  weight,  and  to  amount  to 
evidence  somewhat  more  than  human.  And  unless  the 
whole  series,  and  every  particular  circymstance  contained 
in  it,  can  be  thought  to  have  arisen  from  accident,  the 
truth  of  Christianity  is  proved.* 

The  view  here  given  of  the  moral  and  religious  sys- 

•  Chap.  vii.   To  tl:e  Aiialnjjry  are  suljoin'^l  two  ■rT.^itp.ltfKir,  Im^1«  r.npinally  in 
sen*>d  in  tlie  Ixxly  of  the  work.    Oiw  on  PevMonal  lUmiitff,  ui  which  art-  omtainea 
some  strictun-s  on  Mr  Ixxrkt*,  who  aww-rus  Uiat  consciousnf-.<i  m.nkrs  or  ciMiMiiutes 
personal  ideniily  ;  wh»Tpas,  as  our  Atnl.or  «»hMTv»-s,  c«>ii*riou5m*ss  iruikrs  only  per- 
sonality, or  is  necesbarj  to  tlic  id*  a  ot  a  pfr>on,  i.  <•.  a  tliinwmg  inK-lligent  being,  but 


xl 


PREFACE  BY  THE  EDITOR. 


terns  of  Bishop  Butler,  it  will  immediately  be  perceived, 
is  chiefly  intended  for  younger  students,  especially  for- 
students  in  Divinity  ;  to  whom  it  is  hoped  it  may  be  of 
use,  so  as  to  encourage  them  to  peruse,  with  proper  dili- 
gence, the  original  works  of  the  Author  himself.  For  it 
may  be  necessary  to  observe,  that  neither  of  the  volumes 
of  this  excellent  Prelate  are  addressed  to  those  who 
read  for  amusement,  or  curiosity,  or  to  get  rid  of  time. 
All  subjects  are  not  to  be  comprehended  with  the  same- 
ease  ;  and  morality  and  religion,  when  treated  as  sciences, . 
each  accompanied  with  difficulties  of  its  own,  can  neither 
of  them  be  understood  as  they  ought  without  a  very 
peculiar  attention.  But  morality  and  religion  are  not 
merely  to  be  studied  as  sciences,  or  as  being  speculatively 
true ;  they  are  to  be  regarded  in  another  and  higher 
light,  as  the  rule  of  life  and  manners,  as  containing  - 
authoritative  directions  by  which  to  regulate  our  faith' 
and  practice.  And  in  this  view,  the  infinite  importance 
of  them,  considered,  it  can  never  be  an  indifferent  matter  • 
whether  they  be  received  or  rejected.  For  both  claim  to 
be  the  voice  of  God;  and  whether  they  be  so  or  not, 
cannot  be  known,  till  their  claims  be  impartially  examin- 
ed. If  they  indeed  come  from  Him,  we  are  bound  to 
conform  to  them  at  our  peril ;  nor  is  it  left  to  our  choice, 
whether  we  will  submit  to  the  obligations  they  impose 
upon  us  or  not;  for  submit  to  them  we  must,  in  such  a 
sense,  as  to  incur  the  punishments  denounced  by  both 
against  wilful  disobedience  to  their  injunctions. 

presupposes,  and  therefore  cannot  constitute,  personal  identity :  just  as  knowledge 
presnpi)oses  truth,  but  does  not  constitute  it.  Consciousness  of  past  actions  does  in- 
deed show  us  tlie  identity  of  ourselves,  or  gives  us  a  certain  assurance  that  we  are- 
the  same  persons  or  living  agents  now,  which  we  were  at  the  time  to  which  our  re- 
nie<jibrance  am  look  hack  :  but  still  we  should  be  the  same  persons  as  we  were, 
though  tliis  consciousness  of  what  is  past  were  wanting,  though  all  that  had  been  done 
by  us  fornu  rly  were  fcirf^tjt.ten  ;  uidess  it  be  true,  that  no  person  lias  existed  a  single 
moment  beyond  what  he  can  remember.  The  other  Dissertation  is  On  the  Nature 
of  VirtuGj  which  proper}/  belongs  to  the  inural  system  of  our  Author  already  ex-  - 
plained. 


# 


THE 


LiIFE  OF  DR  BUTL.ER. 


Dr  Joseph  Butler,  a  Prelate  of  the  most  distinguished 
character  and  abiUties,  was  born  at  Wantage,  in  Berk- 
shire, in  the  year  1692.  His  father,  Mr  Thomas  But- 
ler, who  was  a  substantial  and  reputable  shopkeeper  in 
that  town,  observing  in  his  son  Joseph*  an  excellent 
genius  and  inclination  for  learning,  determined  to  edu-> 
cate  him  for  the  ministry,  among  the  Protestant  Dissen- 
ters of  the  Presbyterian  denomination.  For  this  pur- 
pose, after  he  had  gone  through  a  proper  course  of 
grammatical  literature,  at  the  free  grammar  school  of  his 
native  place,  under  the  care  of  the  Rev.  Mr  Philip  Bar- 
ton, a  Clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England,  he  was  sent 
to  a  Dissenting  academy,  then  kept  at  Gloucester,  but 
which  was  soon  afterwards  removed  to  Tewkesbury. 
The  principal  tutor  of  this  academy  was  Mr  Jones,  a 
man  of  uncommon  abilities  and  knowledge,  who  had  the 
honour  of  training  up  several  scholars,  who  became  of 
great  eminence,  both  in  the  Established  Church  and 
among  the  Dissenters.  At  Tewkesbury  Mr  Butler 
made  an  extraordinary  progress  in  the  study  of  Divinity; 
of  which  he  gave  a.  remarkable  proof,  in  the  letters  ad- 
dressed by  him,  while  he  resided  at  Tewkesbury,  to  Dr 
Samuel  Clarke,  laying  before  him  the  doubts  that  had 
arisen  in  his  mind,  concerning  the  conclusiveness  of 
some  arguments  in  the  Doctor's  demonstration  of  the 
being  and  attributes  of  God.  The  first  of  these  letters 
was  dated  the  4th  of  November,  1713;  and  the  sagacity 
and  depth  of  thought  displayed  in  it,  immediately  excit- 
ed Dr  Clarke's  ])articular  notice.  This  condescension 
encouraged  Mr  Butler  to  address  the  Doctor  again  upon 
the  same  subject,  which  likewise  was  ans  tv^ercd  by  \um  ; 
and  the  correspondence  being  carried  on  in  three  other 


fXe  VKns  the  yoimirrst  of  »  ii;Iit  cluMn  ii. 


xlii 


« 

THE  LIFE  OF 


letters,  the  whole  was  annexed  to  the  celebrated  treatise 
before  mefltioned,  and  the  collection  has  been  retained 
in  all  the  subsequent  ediUons  of  that  work.  The  man- 
agement of  this  correspondence  was  entrusted  by  Mr 
Butler  to  his  friend  and  fellow-pupil,  Mr  Seeker,  who, 
in  order  to  conceal  the  affair,  undertook  to  convey  the 
letters  to  the  post-office  at  Gloucester,  and  to  bring  back 
Dr  Clarke's  answers.  When  Mr  Butler's  name  was  dis- 
covered to  the  Doctor,  the  candour,  modesty,  and  good 
sense,  with  which  he  had  written,  immediately  procured 
him  the  friendship  of  that  eminent  and  excellent  man. 
Oar  young  student  was  not,  however,  during  his  contin- 
uance at  Tewkesbury,  solely  employed  in  metaphysical 
speculations  and  inquiries.  Another  subject  of  his  seri- 
ous consideration  was,  the  propriety  of  his  becoming  a 
Dissenting  minister.  Accordingly,  he  entered  into  an 
examination  of  the  principles  of  non-conformity  ;  the  re- 
sult of  which  was,  such  a  dissatisfaction  with  them,  as 
determined  him  to  conform  to  the  Established  Church. 
This  intention  was,  at  first,  disagreeable  to  his  father, 
who  endeavoured  to  divert  him  from  his  purpose  ;  and, 
with  that  view,  called  in  the  assistance  of  some  eminent 
Presbyterian  Divines  ;  but  finding  his  son's  resolution  to 
be  fixed,  he  at  length  suffered  him  to  be  removed  to  Ox- 
ford, where  he  was  admitted  a  commoner  of  Oriel  Col- 
lege, on  the  17th  of  March,  1714.  At  what  time  he  took 
Orders  doth  not  appear,  nor  who  the  Bishop  was  by 
whom  he  was  ordained;  but  it  is  certain  that  he  entered 
into  the  Church  soon  after  his  admission  at  Oxford,  if 
it  be  true,  as  is  asserted,  that  he  sometimes  assisted  Mr 
Edward  Talbot  in  thfe  divine  service,  at  his  living  of 
Hendred,  near  Wantage.  With  this  gentleman,  who 
was  the  second  son  of  Dr  William  Talbot,  successively 
Bdshop  of  Oxford,  Salisbury,  and  Durham,  Mr  Butler 
formed  an  intimate  friendship  at  Oriel  College ;  which 
friendship  laid  the  foundation  of  all  his  subsequent  pre- 
ferments, and  procured  for  him  a  very  honourable  situa- 
tion, when  he  was  only  twenty-six  years  of  age.  For  it 
was  in  1718  that,  at  the  recommendation  of  Mr  Talbot, 
in  conjunction  wilh  that  of  Dr  Clarke,  he  was  appointed 
by  Sir  ,]oso))]i  Jckyll  t(;  Le  pr.  achcr  at  the  Rolls.  This 


DR  BUTLER.  xliii 

was  three  years  before  he  had  taken  any  degree  at  the 
University,  where  he  did  not  go  out  Bachelor  of  Law 
till  the  10th  of  June,  1721,  which,  however,  was  as  soon 
as  that  degree  could  suitably  be  conferred  upon  him. 
Mr  Butler  continued  at  the  Rolls  till  1726  ;  in  the  be- 
ginning of  which  year  he  published,  in  one  volume,  oc- 
tavo, "  Fifteen  Sermons  preached  at  that  Chapel."  In 
the  mean  while,  by  the  patronage  of  Dr  Talbot,  Bishop 
of  Durham,  to  whose  notice  he  had  been  recommended 
(together  with  Mr  Benson  and  Mr  Seeker)  by  Mr  Ed- 
ward Talbot,  on  his  death-bed,  our  Author  had  been 
presented  first  to  the  rectory  of  Haughton,nearDarhngton, 
and  afterwards  to  that  of  Stanhope,  in  the  same  diocese. 
The  benefice  of  Haughton  was  given  to  him  in  1722,  and 
that  of  Stanhope  in  1725.  At  Haughton  there  was  a 
necessity  for  rebuilding  a  great  part  of  the  parsonage- 
house,  and  Mr  Butler  had  neither  money  nor  talents  for 
that  work.  Mr  Seeker,  therefore,  who  had  always  the  in- 
terest of  his  friends  at  heart,  and  had  acquired  a  very  con- 
siderable influence  with  Bishop  Talbot,  persuaded  that 
Prelate  to  give  Mr  Butler,  in  exchange  for  Haughton, 
the  rectory  of  Stanhope,  which  was  not  only  free  from 
any  such  incumbrance,  but  was  likewise  of  much  supe- 
jior  value,  being  indeed  one  of  the  richest  parsonages  in 
England.  Whilst  our  Author  continued  preacher  at  the 
Rolls  Chapel,  he  divided  his  time  between  his  duty  in 
town  and  country  ;  but  when  he  quitted  the  Rolls,  he 
resided  during  seven  years,  wholly  at  Stanhope,  in  the 
conscientious  discharge  of  every  obligation  appertaining 
to  a  good  parish  priest.  This  retirement,  however,  was 
too  solitary  for  his  disposition,  which  had  in  it  a  natural 
cast  of  gloominess.  And  though  his  recluse  hours  were 
by  no  means  lost,  either  to  private  improvement  or  pub- 
lic utility,  yet  he  felt  at  times,  very  painfully,  the  want 
of  that  select  society  of  friends  to  which  lie  had  been  ac- 
customed, and  which  could  inspire  him  witli  the  greatest 
cheerfulness.  Mr  Seeker,  therefore,  who  knew  this,  was 
extremely  anxious  to  draw  him  out  into  a  more  active 
and  conspicuous  scene,  and  omitted  no  o])portunity  of 
expressing  this  desire  to  such  as  he  tliought  capable  of 
promoting  it.    Having  himself  been  appointed  King's 


xliv 


THE  LIFE  OF 


Chaplain  in  1732,  he  took  occasion,  in  a  conversation 
which  he  had  the  honour  of  holding  with  Queen  Caro- 
line, to  mention  to  her  his  friend  Mr  Butler.  The 
Queen  said  she  thought  he  had  been  dead.  Mr  Seeker 
assured  her  he  was  not.  Yet  her  Majesty  afterwards 
asked  Archbishop  Blackburn,  if  he  was  not  dead :  his 
answer  was,  "  No,  madam ;  bat  he  is  buried."  Mr  Seek- 
er continuing  his  purpose  of  endeavouring  to  bring  his 
friend  out  of  his  retirement,  found  means,  upon  Mr 
Charles  Talbot's  being  made  Lord  Chancellor,  to  have 
Mr  Butler  recommended  to  him  for  his  Chaplain.  His 
Lordship  accepted,  and  sent  for  him ;  and  this  promo- 
tion calling  him  to  Town,  he  took  Oxford  in  his  way,  and 
was  admitted  there  to  the  degree  of  Doctor  of  Law,  on 
the  8th  of  December,  1733.  The  Lord  Chancellor,  who 
gave  him  also  a  prebend  in  the  church  of  Rochester,  had 
consented  that  he  should  reside  at  his  parish  of  Stanhope 
one  half  of  the  year. 

Dr  Butler  being  thus  brought  back  into  the  world,  his 
merit  and  his  talents  soon  introduced  him  to  particular 
notice,  and  paved  the  way  for  his  rising  to  those  high 
dignities  which  he  afterwards  enjoyed.  In  1736  he  was 
appointed  Clerk  of  the  Closet  to  Queen  Caroline  ;  and, 
in  the  same  year,  he  presented  to  her  Majesty  a  copy  oi 
his  excellent  Treatise,  entitled,  The  Analogy  of  Reli- 
gion, Natural  and  Revealed,  to  the  Constitution  and 
Course  of  Nature."  His  attendance  upon  his  Royal 
Mistress,  by  her  especial  command,  was  from  seven  to 
nine  in  the  evening  every  day  :  and  though  this  particu- 
lar relation  to  that  excellent  and  learned  Queen  was  soon 
determined  by  her  death,  in  1737,  yet  he  had  been  so 
effectually  recommended  by  her,  as  well  as  by  the  late 
Lord  Chancellor  Talbot,  to  his  Majesty's  favour,  that  in 
the  next  year  he  was  raised  to  the  highest  order  of  the 
Church,  by  a  nomination  to  the  bishopric  of  Bristol  ;  to 
wliich  see  he  was  consecrated  on  the  3d  of  December 
1738.  King  George  II.  not  being  satisfied  with  this 
proof  of  his  regard  to  Dr  Butler,  promoted  him,  in  1740, 
to  the  Deanery  of  St  Paul's,  London,  into  which  he  was 
installed  on  the  24th  of  May  in  that  year.  Finding  the 
demands  of  this  dignity  to  be  incompatible  with  his  pa- 


DR  BUTLER.  xlV 

rjsh  duty  at  Stanhope,  he  immediately  resigned  that  rich 
benefice.  Besides  our  Prelate's  unremitted  attention  to 
his  peculiar  obligations,  he  was  called  upon  to  preach 
several  discourses  on  public  occasions,  which  were  af- 
terwards separately  printed,  and  have  since  been  annex- 
ed to  the  latter  editions  of  the  Sermons  at  the  Rolls  Cha- 
pel. In  1746,  upon  the  death  of  Dr  Egerton,  Bishop  of 
Hereford,  Dr  Butler  was  made  Clerk  of  the  Closet  to  the 
King  ;  and,  on  the  16th  of  October  1750,  he  received  an- 
other distinguished  mark  of  his  Majesty's  favour,  by  be- 
ing translated  to  the  see  of  Durham.  This  was  on  the 
16th  of  October  in  that  year,  upon  the  decease  of  Dr  Ed- 
ward Chandler.  Our  Prelate  being  thus  appointed  to 
preside  over  a  diocese  with  which  he  had  long  been  con- 
nected, delivered  his  first,  and  indeed  his  last  Charge  to 
his  Clergy,  at  his  primary  visitation  in  1751.  The  prin- 
cipal object  of  it  was  "  External  Religion."  The  Bishop 
having  observed,  with  deep  concern,  the  great  and  grow- 
ing neglect  of  serious  piety  in  the  kingdom,  insisted 
strongly  on  the  usefulness  of  outward  forms  and  institu- 
tions, in  fixing  and  preserving  a  sense  of  devotion  and 
duty  in  the  minds  of  men.  In  doing  this,  he  was  thought 
by  several  persons  to  speak  too  favourably  of  Pagan  and 
Popish  ceremonies,  and  to  countenance,  in  a  certain  de- 
gree, the  cause  of  superstition.  Under  that  apprehension, 
an  able  and  spirited  writer,  who  was  understood  to  be  a 
Clergyman  of  the  Church  of  England,  published,  in  1752, 
a  pamphlet,  entitled,  "A  Serious  Inquiry  into  the  Use 
,and  Importance  of  External  Religion ;  occasioned  by 
some  Passages  in  the  Right  Rev.  the  Lord  Bishop  of 
Durham's  Charge  to  the  Clergy  of  that  Diocese  ; — Hum- 
bly addressed  to  his  Lordship."  Many  persons,  how- 
ever, and  we  believe  the  greater  part  of  the  Clergy  of  the 
diocese,  did  not  think  our  Prelate's  Charge  so  exception- 
able as  it  appeared  to  this  author.  The  Charge,  being 
printed  at  Durham,  and  having  never  been  annexed  to 
any  of  Dr  Butler's  other  works,  is  now  become  extreme- 
ly scarce  ;  and  it  is  observable,  that  it  is  the  only  one 
of  his  publications  which  ever  produced  him  a  direct  liter- 
ary antagonist. 

By  this  promotion,  our  worthy  Bishop  was  furnished 


Xlvi  THE  LIFE  OF 

With  ample  means  of  exerting  the  virtue  of  charity ;  a 
virtue  which  eminently  abounded  in  him,  and  the  exer- 
cise of  which  was  his  highest  dehght.  But  this  gratifica- 
tion he  did  not  long  enjoy.  He  had  been  but  a  short  time 
seated  in  his  new  bishopric,  when  his  health  began  visi- 
bly to  decline ;  and  having  been  complimented,  during  his 
indisposition,  upon  account  of  his  great  resignation  to  the 
Divine  will,  he  is  said  to  have  expressed  some  regret, 
that  he  should  be  taken  from  the  present  world  so  soon 
after  he  had  been  rendered  capable  of  becoming  much 
more  useful  in  it.  In  his  illness  he  was  carried  to  Bris- 
tol, to  try  the  waters  of  that  place  ;  but  these  proving  in- 
effectual, he  removed  to  Bath,  where,  being  past  recovery, 
he  died  on  the  16th  of  June,  1752.  His  corpse  was  con- 
veyed to  Bristol,  and  interred  in  the  cathedral  there, 
where  a  monument,  with  an  inscription,  is  erected  to  his 
memory.  - 
On  the  greatness  of  Bishop  Butler's  character  we  need 
not  enlarge ;  for  his  profound  knowledge,  and  the  prodi- 
gious strength  of  his  mind,  are  amply  displayed  in  his 
incomparable  writings.  His  piety  was  of  the  most  seri- 
ous and  fervent,  and,  perhaps,  somewhat  of  the  ascetic 
kind.  His  benevolence  was  warm,  generous,  and  diffu- 
sive. Whilst  he  was  Bishop  of  Bristol,  he  expended,  in 
repairing  and  improving  the  episcopal  palace,  four  thou- 
sand pounds,  which  is  said  to  have  been  more  than  the 
whole  revenues  of  the  bishopric  amounted  to,  during  his 
continuance  in  that  see.  Besides  his  private  benefactions, 
he  was  a  contributor  to  the  infirmary  at  Bristol,  and  a 
subscriber  to  three  of  the  hospitals  at  London.  He  was 
likewise  a  principal  promoter,  though  not  the  first  found- 
er, of  the  infirmary  at  Newcastle,  in  Northumberland. 
In  supporting  the  hospitality  and  dignity  of  the  rich  and 
powerful  diocese  of  Durham,  he  was  desirous  of  imitating 
the  spirit  of  his  patron.  Bishop  Talbot.  In  this  spirit  he 
set  apart  three  days  every  week  for  the  reception  and  en- 
tertainment of  the  principal  gentry  of  the  country.  Nor 
were  even  the  Clergy  who  had  the  poorest  benefices  ne- 
glected by  him.  He  not  only  occasionally  invited  them 
to  dine  with  him,  but  condescended  to  visit  them  at  their 
respective  parishes.    By  his  will  he  left  five  hundred 


DR  BUTLER. 


xlvii 


pounds  to  the  Society  for  propagating  the  Gospel  in  Fo- 
reign Parts,  and  some  legacies  to  his  friends  and  domes- 
tics. His  executor  and  residuary  legatee  was  his  chap- 
lain, the  Rer.  Dr  Xaihanael  Forster,  a  diwae  of  distm- 
guished  literature.  Bishop  Butler  was  never  married. 
Soon  after  his  decease,  tlie  following  lines,  by  way  of 
epitaph,  were  written  concerning  him ;  and  were  printed 
first,  if  we  recollect  aright,  in  the  London  Magazine. 

Beneath  this  marble  Butler  lies  entomb'd. 
Who.  with  a  soul  inflamed  by  love  divine, 

HLs  life  in  presence  of  his  God  consumed, 
Like  the  brigfit  lamps  before  the  holy  shrine. 

His  aspect  pleasing,  mind  with  learning  fraught 
His  eloquence  ^-as  like  a  chain  of  gold, 
That  the  wild  passions  of  mankind  controll'd  ; 

Merit,  wherever  to  be  found,  he  sought. 

Desire  of  transient  riches  he  had  none  ; 

These  he,  ^ith  bounteous  hand,  did  well  dispense  ; 
Bent  to  fulfill  the  ends  of  Providence ; 

His  heart  stiU  fix'd  on  an  immortal  crown. 
His  hean  a  mirror  was,  of  purest  kind. 
Where  the  bright  image  of  his  Maker  shined ; 

Reflecting  faithful  to  the  throne  above, 

Th'  inadiant  glories  of  the  Mystic  Dove. 

The  following  Epitaph,  said  to  be  written  by  Dr  Xa- 
thanael  Forster,  is  inscribed  on  a  flat  marble  stone,  in  the 
cathedral  church  of  Bristol,  placed  over  the  spot  where 
the  remains  of  Bishop  Butler  are  deposited;  and  which, 
as  it  is  now  almost  obliterated,  it  may  be  worth  while  here 
to  preserve. 

H.  s. 

Reverendns  admoiium  in  Christo  Pater 
JOSEPIIUS  BL  TLER,  LL.D. 

Huju^ce  primo  Diorc^'seos 
Deinde  Dunelmensis  E|.  iscopus. 

Quali:  quanliisque  Vir  erat 
Sua  libenlis*  me  ai»i»ovit  n^tas: 
Et  si  quid  Praesuli  aut  Scrifiton  ad  fimam  valeflt 
MeiK  altissima, 
Ingenii  perspicacis  el  suhacii  Vis, 
%fiiinti<que  pins,  siirf  lex,  canvlLicK,  libenJig, 
Mortui  hand  facile  evanescet  memoria. 
Obiit  BathonuT  16  Kalend.  Julii, 
A.  D.  1752 
Annos  natus  GO. 


INTRODUCTION. 


Probable  evidence  is  essentially  distinguished  from  de- 
monstrative by  this,  that  it  admits  of  degrees  ;  and  of  all 
variety  of  them,  from  the  highest  moral  certainty,  to  the 
very  lowest  presumption.  We  cannot  indeed  say  a  thing 
is  probably  true  upon  one  very  slight  presumption  for 
it ;  because,  as  there  may  be  probabilities  on  both  sides 
of  a  question,  there  may  be  some  against  it ;  and  though 
there  be  not,  yet  a  slight  presumption  does  not  beget 
that  degree  of  conviction,  which  is  implied  in  saying  a 
thing  is  probably  true.  But  that  the  slightest  possible 
presumption  is  of  the  nature  of  a  probability,  appears 
from  hence  ;  that  such  low  presumption  often  repeated, 
will  amount  even  to  moral  certainty.  Thus  a  man's  hav- 
ing observed  the  ebb  and  flow  of  the  tide  to-day,  affords 
some  sort  of  presumption,  though  the  lowest  imaginable, 
that  it  may  happen  again  to-morrow :  but  the  observa- 
tion of  this  event  for  so  many  days,  and  months,  and 
ages  together,  as  it  has  been  observed  by  mankind,  gives 
us  a  full  assurance  that  it  will. 

That  which  chiefly  constitutes  Probability  is  expressed 
in  the  word  Likely,  i,  e.  like  some  truth,*  or  true  event ; 
like  it,  in  itself,  in  its  evidence,  in  some  more  or  fewer 
of  its  circumstances.  For  when  we  determine  a  thing 
to  be  probably  true,  suppose  that  an  event  has  or  will 
come  to  pass,  it  is  from  the  mind's  remarking  in  it  a 
likeness  to  some  other  event,  which  we  have  observed 
has  come  to  pass.  And  this  observation  forms,  in  num- 
berless daily  instances,  a  presumption,  opinion,  or  full 
conviction,  that  such  event  has  or  will  come  to  pass  ;  ac- 
cording as  the  observation  is,  that  the  like  event  has 
sometimes,  most  commonly,  or  always,  so  fc\r  as  our  ob- 
servation reaches,  come  to  pass  at  like  distances  of  time, 
or  place,  or  upon  like  occasions.  Hence  arises  the  be- 
lief, that  a  child,  if  it  Jives  twenty  years,  will  grow  up  to 

*  VcriBimile. 


INTRODUCTION. 


xlix 


the  stature  and  strength  of  a  man ;  that  food  will  contri- 
bute to  the  preservation  of  its  life,  and  the  want  of  it  for 
such  a  number  of  days,  be  its  certain  destruction.  So 
likewise  the  rule  and  measure  of  our  hopes  and  fears 
concerning  the  success  of  our  pursuits ;  our  expectations 
that  others  will  act  so  and  so  in  such  circumstances  ;  and 
our  judgment  that  such  actions  proceed  from  such  prin- 
ciples ;  all  these  rely  upon  our  having  observed  the  like 
to  what  we  hope,  fear,  expect,  judge ;  I  say,  upon  our 
having  observed  the  like,  either  with  respect  to  others 
or  ourselves.  And  thus,  whereas  the  prince*  who  had 
always  lived  in  a  warm  climate,  naturally  concluded  in 
the  way  of  analogy,  that  there  was  no  such  thing  as 
water's  becoming  hard,  because  he  had  always  observed 
it  to  be  fluid  and  yielding :  we,  on  the  contrary,  from 
analogy  conclude,  that  there  is  no  presumption  at  all 
agamst  this  :  that  it  is  supposable  there  may  be  frost  in 
England  any  given  day  in  January  next;  probable  that 
there  will  on  some  day  of  the  month ;  and  that  there  is 
a  moral  certainty,  i,  e.  ground  for  an  expectation  without 
any  doubt  of  it,  in  some  part  or  other  of  the  winter. 

Probable  evidence,  in  its  very  nature,  affords  but  an 
imperfect  kind  of  information ;  and  is  to  be  considered 
as  relative  only  to  beings  of  limited  capacities.  For  no- 
thing which  is  the  possible  object  of  knowledge,  whether 
past,  present,  or  future,  can  be  probable  to  an  infinite 
Intelligence  ;  since  it  cannot  but  be  discerned  absolutely 
as  it  is  in  itself,  certainly  true,  or  certainly  false.  But 
to  us,  probability  is  the  very  guide  of  life. 

From  these  things  it  follows,  that  in  questions  of  dif- 
ficulty, or  such  as  are  thought  so,  where  more  satisfac- 
tory evidence  cannot  be  had,  or  is  not  seen;  if  the  result 
of  examination  be,  that  there  apptiars  upon  the  whole, 
any  the  lowest  presumption  on  one  side,  and  none  on 
the  other,  or  a  greater  presumption  on  one  side,  though 
in  the  lowest  degree  greater;  this  determines  the  ques- 
tion, even  in  matters  of  speculation ;  and  in  matters  of 
practice,  will  lay  us  under  an  absolute  and  formal  obli- 
fi:ation,  in  point  of  prudence  and  of  interest,  to  act  upon 
that  presumption  or  low  ])robability,  though  it  be  so  low 

*  The  story  is  told  by  Mr  Looko  in  \\\v  ClinpU  r  of  Probability, 

1* 


INTRODUCTION. 


as  to  leave  the  mind  in  very  great  doubt  which  is  the 
truth,  l-"  or  surely  a  man  is  as  really  bound  in  prudence 
to  do  what  upon  the  whole  appears,  according  to  the 
best  of  his  judgment,  to  be  for  his  happiness,  as  wdiat 
ne  certainly  knows  to  be  so.  Nay  further,  in  questions 
of  great  consequence,  a  reasonable  man  will  think  it  con- 
cerns him  to  remark  lower  probabilities  and  presump- 
tions than  these  ;  such  as  amount  to  no  more  than  show- 
ing one  side  of  a  question  to  be  as  supposable  and  cred- 
ible as  the  other  :  nay,  such  as  but  amount  to  much  less 
even  than  this.  For  numberless  instances  might  be 
mentioned  respecting  the  common  pursuits  of  life,  where 
a  man  would  be  thought,  in  a  literal  sense,  distracted> 
who  would  not  act,  and  with  great  application  too,  not 
only  upon  an  even  chance,  but  upon  much  less,  and-^ 
where  the  probability  or  chance  w^as  greatly  against  his 
succeeding.* 

It  is  not  my  design  to  inquire  further  into  the  nature, 
the  foundation,  and  measure  of  probability ;  or  whence 
it  proceeds  that  likeness  should  beget  that  presumption,, 
opinion,  and  full  conviction,  which  the  human  mind  i& 
formed  to  receive  from  it,  and  which  it  does  necessarily 
produce  in  every  one  ;  or  to  guard  against  the  errors,  ta 
which  reasoning  from  analogy  is  liable.  This  belongs  to^ 
the  subject  of  Logic  ;  and  is  a  part  of  that  subject  which 
has  not  yet  been  thoroughly  considered.  Indeed  I  shall 
not  take  upon  me  to  say,  how  far  the  extent,  compass, 
and  force,  of  analogical  reasoning,  can  be  reduced  to 
general  heads  and  rules;  and  the  whole  be  formed  into 
a  system.  But  though  so  little  in  this  way  has  been 
attempted  by  those  who  liave  treated  of  our  intellectual 
powers,  and  the  exercise  of  them ;  this  does  not  hinder 
but  that  we  may  be,  as  we  unquestionably  are,  assured^ 
that  analogy  is  of  weight,  in  various  degrees,  towards 
determining  our  judgment  and  oiir  practice.  Nor  does 
it  in  any  wise  cease  to  be  of  weight  in  those  cases,  because 
persons,  cither  eiven  to  dispute,  or  who  require  things 
to  be  stated  w^ith  greater  exactness  than  our  faculties  ap- 
pear to  admit  of  in  practical  matters,  may  find  other 
cases  in  which  it  is  not  easy  to  say,  w^hether  it  be,  or  be 


♦  See  {'Ml  II.  Cliap.  vi. 


INTRODUCTION. 


not,  of  any  -weight ;  or  instances  of  seeming  analogies, 
which  are  really  of  none.  It  is  enough  to  the  present 
purpose  to  observe,  that  this  general  way  of  arguing  is 
evidently  natural,  just,  and  conclusive.  For  there  is  no 
man  can  make  a  question  but  that  the  sun  will  rise  to- 
morrow, and  be  seen,  where  it  is  seen  at  all,  in  the  figure 
of  a  circle,  and  not  in  that  of  a  square. 

Hence,  namely  from  analogical  reasoning,  Origen*  has 
with  singular  sagacity  observed,  that  he  ivho  believes  the 
Scripture  to  have  proceeded  from  him  icho  is  the  Author  of 
Nature,  may  well  expect  to  find  the  same  sort  of  difficulties 
in  it,  as  are  found  in  the  constitution  of  Nature.  And  in 
a  like  way  of  reflection  it  may  be  added,  that  he  who 
denies  the  Scripture  to  have  been  from  God  upon  ac- 
count of  these  difficulties,  may,  for  the  very  same  reason, 
deny  the  world  to  have  been  formed  by  him.  On  the 
other  hand,  if  there  be  an  analogy  or  likeness  between 
that  system  of  things  and  dispensation  of  Providence, 
which  Revelation  informs  us  of,  and  that  system  of  things 
and  dispensation  of  Providence,  which  Experience  to- 
gether with  Reason  informs  us  of,  i.  e.  the  known  course 
of  Nature ;  this  is  a  presumption,  that  they  have  both 
the  same  author  and  cause ;  at  least  so  far  as  to  answer 
objections  against  the  former's  being  from  God,  drawn 
from  any  thing  which  is  analogical  or  similar  to  what  is  in 
the  latter,  which  is  acknowledged  to  be  from  him  ;  for  an 
Author  of  Nature  is  here  supposed. 

Forming  our  notions  of  the  constitution  and  govern- 
ment of  the  world  upon  reasoning,  without  foundation 
for  the  principles  which  we  assume,  whether  from  tlie  at- 
tributes of  God,  or  any  thing  else,  is  building  a  world  upon 
hypothesis,  like  ])es  Cartes.  Forming  our  notions  upon 
reasoning  from  principles  which  are  certain,  but  applied 
to  cases  to  which  we  have  no  ground  to  apply  them  (like 
those  who  explain  the  structure  of  the  human  body,  and 
the  nature  of  diseases  and  medicines  from  mere  mathe- 
matics without  sufficient  daia,)  is  an  error  much  akin  to 
the  former :  since  what  is  assumed  in  order  to  make  the 

*  X(*|  fitf  Tti  yt  T»»  uTa^  »v<««3  f  ;» >»  ftj  xfi^'/»:*.>j  ret  mcvfttt  t^»at  TSvraf  nit  yfrn^g 
WlWltrS*/,  *ri         vui  rn;  »r!r%m;  awmtrei  rtTg  '^TtZri  ri»  Wt*i  myriit  )<iy*,  rmirm  %ai 

wi^t  rit  y^afit.    Philocul.  |).       Kcl.  Cw\», 

D  2 


lil 


INTRODUCTION. 


reasoning  applicable,  is  Hypcfhesis.  But  it  must  be  al- 
lowed just,  to  join  abstract  reasonings  with  the  observa- 
tion of  facts,  and  argue  from  such  facts  as  are  known,  to 
others  that  are  like  them ;  from  tjiat  part  of  the  Divine 
government  over  intelligent  creatures  which  comes  under 
our  view,  to  that  larger  and  more  general  government 
over  them  which  is  beyond  it ;  and  from  what  is  present, 
to  collect  what  is  likely,  credible,  or  not  incredible,  will 
be  hereafter. 

This  method  then  of  concluding  and  determining  be- 
ing practical,  and  what,  if  we  will  act  at  all,  we  cannot 
but  act  upon  in  the  common  pursuits  of  life ;  being  evi- 
dently conclusive,  in  various  degrees,  proportionable  to 
the  degree  and  exactness  of  the  whole  analogy  or  like- 
ness ;  and  having  so  great  authority  for  its  introduction 
into  the  subject  of  religion,  even  revealed  religion ;  my 
design  is  to  apply  it  to  that  subject  in  general,  both  na- 
tural and  revealed :  taking  for  proved,  that  there  is  an  in- 
telligent Author  of  Nature,  and  natural  Governor  of  the 
world.  For  as  there  is  no  presumption  against  this  prior 
to  the  proof  of  it :  so  it  has  been  often  proved  with  ac- 
cumulated evidence ;  from  this  argument  of  analogy  and 
final  causes ;  from  abstract  reasonings  ;  from  the  most 
ancient  tradition  and  testimony ;  and  from  the  general 
consent  of  mankind.  Nor  does  it  appear,  so  far  as  I  can 
find,  to  be  denied  by  the  generality  of  those  who  profess 
themselves  dissatisfied  with  the  evidence  of  religion. 

As  there  are  some,  who,(  instead  of  thus  attending  to 
what  is  in  fact  the  constitution  of  Nature,;  form  their  no- 
tions of  God's  government  upon  hypothesis:  so  there 
are  others,  who  indulge  themselves  in  vain  and  idle  spec- 
ulations, how  the  world  might  possibly  have  been  framed 
otherwise  than  it  is ;  and  upon  supposition  that  things 
might,  in  imagining  that  they  should,  have  been  disposed 
and  carried  on  after  a  better  model,  than  what  appears 
in  the  present  disposition  and  conduct  of  them.  Sup- 
pose now  a  person  of  such  a  turn  of  mind,  to  go  on  with 
his  re'^eries,  till  he  had  at  length  fixed  upon  some  parti- 
cular plan  of  Nature,  as  appearing  to  him  the  best  — 
One  shall  scarce  be  thought  guilty  of  dc^traction  against 
human  understanding,  if  one  should  say,  even  before- 


INTRODUCTION. 


Uii 


hand,  that  the  plan  which  this  speculative  person  would 
fix  upon,  though  he  were  the  wisest  of  the  sons  of  men,j 
probably  would  not  be  the  very  best,  even  according  to 
his  own  notions  of  best ;  whether  he  thought  that  to  be 
so,  which  afforded  occasions  and  motives  for  the  exer- 
cise of  the  greatest  virtue,  or  which  was  productive  of 
the  greatest  happiness,  or  tliat  these  t\7o  were  neces- 
sarily connected,  and  run  up  into  one  and  the  same  plan. 
However,  it  may  not  be  amiss,  once  for  all,  to  see  what 
would  be  the  amount  of  these  emendations  and  imagin- 
ary improvements  upon  the  system  of  nature,  or  how  far 
they  would  mislead  us.  And  it  seems  there  could  be  no 
stopping,  till  we  came  to  some  such  conclusions  as  these: 
that  all  creatures  should  at  first  be  made  as  perfect  and 
as  happy  as  they  were  capable  of  ever  being:  that  no- 
thing, to  be  sure,  of  hazard  or  danger  should  be  put  upon 
them  to  do  ;  some  indolent  persons  would  perhaps  think 
nothing  at  all:  or  certainly,  that  effectual  care  should  be 
taken,  that  they  should,  whether  necessarily  or  not,  yet 
eventually  and  in  fact,  always  do  what  was  right  and 
most  conducive  to  happiness,  which  would  be  thought 
easy  for  infinite  power  to  effect ;  either  by  not  giving 
them  any  principles  which  would  endanger  their  going 
wrong ;  or  by  laying  the  right  motive  of  action  in  every 
instance  before  their  minds  continually  in  so  strong  a 
manner,  as  would  never  fciil  of  inducing  tlicm  to  act 
conformably  to  it :  and  that  the  whole  method  of  govern- 
ment by  punishments  should  be  rejected  as  absurd;  as  an 
awkward  round-about  method  of  carrying  things  on  ; 
nay,  as  contrary  to  a  principal  purpose,  for  which  it 
would  be  supposed  creatures  were  made,  namely,  hap- 
piness. 

Now,  without  considering  what  is  to  be  said  in  parti- 
cular to  the  several  parts  of  this  train  of  folly  and  extra- 
vagance;  what  has  been  above  intimated,  is  a  full  direct 
general  answer  to  it,  namely,  that  v/e  may  see  beforehand 
that  we  have  not  faculties  for  this  kind  of  speculation. 
For  though  it  be  admitted  that,  I'roni  the  first  principles 
of  our  natun^  we  unavoidably  jud^e  or  determine  some 
ends  to  be  absolutely  in  themselves  preferable  to  others, 
and  that  the  ends   now  nientioued,  or  if  thev  run  up 


liv 


INTRODUCTION. 


into  one,  that  this  one  is  absolutely  the  best;  and  conse- 
quently that  we  must  conclude  the  ultimate  end  design- 
ed, in  the  constitution  of  Nature  and  conduct  of  Provi- 
dence, is  the  most  virtue  and  happiness  possible;  yet 
we  are  far  from  being  able  to  judge  what  particular 
disposition  of  things  would  be  most  friendly  and  assist- 
ant to  virtue ;  or  what  means  might  be  absolutely  neces  - 
sary  to  produce  the  most  happiness  in  a  system  of  such 
extent  as  our  own  world  ma}'  be,  taking  in  all  that  is 
past  and  to  come,  though  we  should  suppose  it  detached 
from  the  whole  of  things.  Indeed  we  are  so  far  from 
being  able  to  judge  of  this,  that  we  are  not  judges  what 
may  be  the  necessary  means  of  raising  and  conducting 
one  person  to  the  highest  perfection  and  happiness  of 
his  nature.  Nay,  even  in  the  little  affairs  of  the  present 
life,  we  find  men  of  different  educations  and  ranks  are 
not  competent  judges  of  the  conduct  of  each  other.  Our 
whole  nature  leads  us  to  ascribe  all  moral  perfection  to 
God,  and  to  deny  all  imperfection  of  him.  And  this  will 
for  ever  be  a  practical  proof  of  his  moral  character,  to 
such  as  will  consider  what  a  practical  proof  is;  because 
it  is  the  voice  of  God  speaking  in  us.  And  from  hence 
we  conclude,  that  virtue  must  be  the  happiness,  and  vice 
the  misery,  of  every  creature;  and  that  regularity  and 
order  and  right  cannot  but  prevail  finally  in  a  universe 
under  his  government.  But  we  are  in  no  sort  judges, 
what  are  the  necessary  means  of  accomplishing  this  end. 

Let  us  then,  instead  of  that  idle  and  not  very  innocent 
employment  of  forming  imaginary  models  of  a  world, 
and  schemes  of  governing  it,  turn  our  thoughts  to  what 
we  experience  to  be  the  conduct  of  Nature  with  respect 
to  intelhgent  creatures ;  which  may  be  resolved  into 
general  laws  or  rules  of  administration,  in  the  same  way 
as  many  of  tlie  laws  of  Nature  respecting  inanimate 
matter  may  be  collected  from  experiments.  And  let  us 
compare  the  known  constitution  and  course  of  things 
with  what  is  said  to  be  the  moral  system  of  Nature ; 
the  acknowledged  dispensations  of  Providence,  or  that 
government  which  we  find  ourselves  under,  with  what 
relii^ion  teaches  us  to  believe  and  expectj  and  see  whether 
thjy  are  not  analogous  and  of  a  piece.    And  upon  such 


INTRODUCTION. 


a  comparison  it  will,  I  think,  be  found  that  they  are  very 
much  so  :  that  both  may  be  traced  up  to  the  same  gene- 
ral laws,  and  resolved  into  the  same  principles  of  di- 
vine conduct. 

The  analogy  here  proposed  to  be  considered  is  of  pretty 
large  extent,  and  consists  of  several  parts  ;  in  some  more, 
in  others  less  exact.  In  some  few  instances  perhaps 
it  may  amount  to  a  real  practical  proof;  m  others  not  so. 
Yet  in  these  it  is  a  confirmation  of  what  is  proved  other- 
wise. It  will  undeniably  show,  what  too  many  want  to 
have  shown  them,)  that  the  system  of  Religion,  both 
natural  and  revealed, -'considered  only  as  a  system,  and 
prior  to  the  proof  of  it,  is  not  a  subject  of  ridicule,  unless 
that  of  Nature  be  so  too.  And  it  will  afford  an  answer  to 
almost  all  objections  against  the  system  both  of  natural 
and  revealed  Rehgion  ;  though  not  perhaps  an  answer  in 
so  great  a  degree,  yet  in  a  very  considerable  degree  an 
answer  to  the  objections  against  the  evidence  of  it:  for  ob- 
jections against  a  proof,  and  objections  against  what  is  said 
to  be  proved,  the  reader  will  observe  are  different  things. 

Now  the  divine  government  of  the  world,  implied  in 
the  notion  of  religion  in  general  and  of  Christianity,  con- 
tains in  it ;  that  mankind  is  appointed  to  live  in  a  future 
state;*  that  there  every  one  shall  be  rewarded  or  punish- 
ed;! ^rewarded  or  punished  respectively  ]for  all  that 
behaviour  here,  which  we  comprehend  under  the  words, 
virtuous  or  vicious,  morally  good  or  evil :+  that  our  pre- 
sent life  is  a  probation,  a  state  of  trial,  §  and  of  disci- 
pline, II  for  that  future  one  ;  |  notwithsttuiding  the  objec- 
tions, which  men  may  fancy  they  have,  from  notions  oi 
Necessity,  against  there  being  any  such  moral  plan  as 
this  at  all ;  ^  and  whatever  objections  may  appear  to  lie 
against  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  it,  as  it  stands  so 
imperfectly  made  known  to  us  at  present  f)**  that  this 
world  being  in  a  state  of  apostasy  and  wicKcdncss,,and 
consequenVly  of  ruin,)and  the  sense  both  of  their  condi- 
tion and  duty  being  greatly  corrupted  amongst  men,  this 
gave  occasion  for  an  additional  dispensation  of  Provi- 
dence ;  of  the  utmost  importance ;  H  proved  by  miracles  ;U 


•  Cli.  i.       f  ("h.  ii        f  Cli.  ili.       f  Ch.  i'  .       !|  Cli.  v.  vi. 
*♦  Ch.  vii.  th  f'iirf  ir  .  !.   ..  tt  Cli-  ii. 


^  JNTRODUCTION„ 

but  containing  m  it  many  tilings  appearing  lo  us  strange, , 
and  not  to  have  been  expected ;  *  a  dispensation  of  Provi- 
dence, which  is  a  scheme  or  system  of  things  ;t  cavrried 
on  by  the  mediation  of  a  divine  person,  the  Messiah,  in 
order  to  the  recovery  of  the  world ;  t  yet  not  revealed 
to  all  men,  nor  proved  with  the  strongest  possible  evi- 
dence to  all  those  to  whom  it  is  revealed ;  but  only  to 
such  a  part  of  mankind,  and  with  such  particular  evi- 
dence, as  the  wisdom  of  God  thought  fit.  ^  The  design 
then  of  the  following  Treatise  will  be  to  show,  that  the 
several  parts  principally  objected  against  in  this  moral 
and  Christian  dispensation,  including  its  scheme,  its  publi- 
cation, and  the  proof  which  God  has  afforded  us  of  its  truth; 
that  the  particular  parts  principally  objected  against  in  this 
whole  dispensation,  are  analogous  to  what  is  experienced 
in  the  constitution  and  course  of  Nature,  or  Providence  ; 
that  the  chief  objections  themselves  which  are  alleged 
against  the  former,  are  no  other  than  what  may  be  alleged 
with  like  justness  against  the  latter,  where  they  are  found 
in  fact  to  be  inconclusive ;  and  thVt  this  argument  from 
analogy  is  in  general  unanswerable,  and  undoubtedly  of 
weight  on  the  side  of  religion*,  11  notwithstanding  the 
objections  which  may  seem  to  lie  against  it,  and  the  real 
ground  which  there  may  be  for  difference  of  opinion,  as 
to  the  particular  degree  of  weight  which  is  to  be  laid 
upon  it.  This  is  a  general  account  of  what  may  be- 
looked  for  in  the  following  Treatise.  And  I  shall  begin  it 
with  that  which  is  the  foundation  of  all  our  hopes  and 
of  all  our  fears;  all  our  hopes  and  fears,  which  are  of 
any  consid^reiiion ;  I  mean  a  Future  Life. 


*  Ch.  iil 


•f  Co.,  iv.     J:  CU  V. 


<^  Civ  vi.  vu. 


II  Ch.  vSii. 


7 


ANALOGY  OF  RELIGION- 


PART  1. 
OF  NATURAL  RELIGION. 


CHAP.  I. 
OF  A  FUTURE  LIFE. 

Strange  difficulties  have  been  raised  by  some  concern- 
ing personal  identity,  or  the  sameness  of  living  agents, 
implied  in  the  notion  of  our  existing  now  and  hereafter,  or 
in  any  two  successive  moments;  which  whoever  thinks  it 
worth  while,  may  see  considered  in  the  first  Dissertation 
at  the  end  of  this  Treatise.  But  without  regard  to  any 
of  them  here,  let  us  consider  what  the  analogy  of  nature, 
and  the  several  changes  which  wc  have  undergone,  and 
those  which  we  know  we  may  undergo  without  being 
destroyed,  suggest,  as  to  the  effect  which  death  may,  or 
may  not,  have  upon  us;  and  whether  it  bo  not  from 
thence  probable,  that  wc  may  survive  this  change,  and 
exist  in  a  future  state  of  lile  and  perception. 

I.  From  our  being  born  into  the  pres(  nt  world  in  the 
helpless  imperfect  state  of  infancy,  and  having  arrived 
from  thence  to  mature  ago,  wo  find  it  to  be  a  general  law 
of  nature  in  our  own  species,  tliat  the  same  creatures,  the 
same  individuals,  should  exist  in  degrees  of  life  and  per- 
ception, with  capacities  of  action,  of  enjoyment  and  suffer- 
ing, in  one  period  of  their  being,  greatly  tlilYorent  from 
those  appointed  them  in  another  period  of  it.  And  in 
other  creatures  the  same  law  holds.  For  the  diflforence  of 
tf  oir  capacities  and  states  of  life  at  their  birth  (to  go  no 
In  Vier)andin  maturity;  the  change  of  worms  into  flies,  and 
"lie  vast  enlargement  of  tlioir  locomotive  ])owors  by  such 


5S  OF  A  FUTURE  LIFE.  |-p^„ 

change:  and  birds  and  insects  bursting  the  shell  of  their 
habitation,  and  by  this  means  entering  into  a  new  world, 
furnished  w^ith  new  accommodations  for  them,  and  findino: 

o 

a  new  sphere  of  action  assigned  them ;  these  are  instances 
of  this  genera]  law  of  nature.  Thus  all  the  various  and 
w^onderful  transformations  of  animals  are  to  be  taken  into 
consideration  here.  But  the  states  of  life  in  which  we 
ourselves  existed  formerly  in  the  womb  and  in  our  infancy, 
are  almost  as  different  from  our  present  in  mature  age,  as 
it  is  possible  to  conceive  any  tw^o  states  or  degrees  of  life 
can  be.  Therefore  that  we  are  to  exist  hereafter,  in  a 
state  as  different  (suppose)  from  our  present,  as  this  is 
from  our  former,  is  but  according  to  the  analogy  of  na- 
ture; according  to  a  natural  order  or  appointment  of  the 
very  same  kind,  with  what  we  have  already  experienced. 

II.  We  know  we  are  endued  with  capacities  of  action, 
of  happiness  and  misery:  for  we  are  conscious  of  acting,  of 
enjoying  pleasure  and  suffering  pain.  Now  that  w^e  have 
these  powers  and  capacities  before  death,  is  a  presumption 
that  w^e  shall  retain  them  through  and  after  death ;  indeed  a 
probability  of  it  abundantly  sufficient  to  act  upon,  unless 
there  be  some  positive  reason  to  think  that  death  is  the 
destruction  of  those  living  powers:  because  there  is  in 
every  case  a  probability,  that  all  things  will  continue  as 
we  experience  they  are,  in  all  respects,  except  those  in 
•which  we  have  some  reason  to  think  they  will  be  altered. 
This  is  that  kind*  of  presumption  or  probability  from  ana- 
logy, expressed  in  the  very  w^ord  continuance^  which  seems 
our  only  natural  reason  for  believing  the  course  of  the  world 
will  continue  to-morrow,  as  it  has  done  so  far  as  our  expe- 
rience or  knowledge  of  history  can  carry  us  back.  Nay 
it  seems  our  only  reason  for  believing,  that  any  one  sub- 
stance now  existing  will  continue  to  exist  a  moment  longer ; 
the  self-existent  substance  only  excepted.  Thus  if  men 
were  assured  that  the  unknown  event,  death,  was  not  (he 
destruction  of  our  faculties  of  perception  and  of  action, 
there  would  be  no  apprehension,  that  any  other  power  oi 
event,  unconnected  with  this  of  death,  would  destroy  these 


*  I  say  of  prrsnmpUf)n  or  rro'nbility  ;  for  T  flo  not  in»nii  to  nft'irni  tliat  (hrre 
is  tfie  suiB<'  dcfrree  of  convioiion,  tliat  our  living  powers  will  continue  after  death,  as 
there  is,  that  our  bubsunces  will. 


Chap.  L]  OF  A  FUTURE  LIFE.  59 

faculties  just  at  tlie  instant  of  each  creature's  death;  and 
tlierefore  no  doubt  but  that  they  ^Yould  remain  after  it; 
which  shows  the  high  probabihty  that  our  hving  powers 
will  continue  after  death,  unless  there  be  some  ground  to 
think  that  death  is  their  destruction.*  For,  if  it  would  be 
in  a  manner  certain  that  we  should  survive  death,  pro- 
vided it  were  certain  that  death  would  not  be  our  destruc- 
tion, it  must  be  highly  probable  we  shall  survive  it,  if  there 
be  no  ground  to  think  death  will  be  our  destruction. 

Now,  though  I  think  it  must  be  acknowledged,  that 
prior  to  the  natural  and  moral  proofs  of  a  future  life 
commonly  insisted  upon,  there  would  arise  a  general 
confused  suspicion,  that  in  th^  great  shock  and  alteration 
which  we  shall  undergo  by  death,  we,  i.  e.  our  living 
powers,  might  be  wholly  destroyed  ;  yet  even  prior  to 
those  proofs,  there  is  really  no  particular  distinct  ground 
or  reason  for  this  apprehension  at  all,  so  far  as  I  can 
find.  If  there  be,  it  must  arise  either  from  the  reason 
of  the  thing,  or  from  the  analogy  of  nature. 

But  we  cannot  argue  from  the  reason  of  the  thing,  that 
death  is  the  destruction  of  living  agents,  because  we 
know  not  at  all  what  death  is  in  itself ;  but  only  some 
of  its  effects,  such  as  the  dissolution  of  flesh,  skin,  and 
bones.  And  these  effects  do  in  no  wise  appear  to  imply 
the  destruction  of  a  living  agent.  And  besides,  as  we 
are  greatly  in  the  dark,  upon  what  the  exercise  of  our 
living  powers  depends,  so  we  are  wholly  ignorant  what 
the  powers  themselves  depend  upon ;  the  powers  them- 
selves as  distinguished,  not  only  from  their  actual  exer- 
cise, but  also  from  the  present  caoacity  of  exercising 
them;  and  as  opposed  to  thtir  destruction:  for  sleep, 
or  however  a  swoon,  shows  us,  not  only  that  these 
powers  exist  when  they  are  not  exjrcised,  as  the  passive 
power  of  motion  does  in  inanimate  matter ;  but  shows 

♦  Drstrurtion  of  living  powers,  is  a  niniinrr  of  px)>ressioii  iinavoiilahly  nniliipiious  ; 
nnd  nuiy  '•i^nify  «-itliri-  i/if  ilcstruction  of  a  living  bei/ig,  so  as  that  the  same  living 
being  shall  he  unrapahle  of  rvrr  perceiving  or  o,-hujr  u^ain  at  all ;  or  the  destructnm  of 
those  yneuns  and  inslrtnuents  hy  which  it  is  caparmt,  of  its  prrscut  fife,  of  its  present 
state  of  pi-rception  and  of  action.  It  i^  lim- iispil  in  llir  tornu-r  Sf-nsp.  WImii  it  is 
uspil  ill  ilii-  iatiiT,  liu'  ppiilipi  present  is  adtlrtl.  Tlir  loss  ol  n  nuui's  »  yp  is  a  «lpstnic- 
tioii  of  liviiifT  |„i\vprs  ill  ilir  latirr  s«  nsp.  Hiit  \vp  liavp  no  n-ason  to  think,  llip  iIp- 
8lr:iriion  of  iivmp  jxiwrrs,  in  llu-  forinrr  s«'Iinp,  'o  hv  |h»kmIi1p  \\>  havp  no  nM)ri* 
rpHsoii  to  lliink  a  l)fi|i«r  t  iidiHti  wiUi  livmj.  |.<)\v»tn  r\«T  Id^ts  lh«  in  duriii;^  its  whole 
ciistena-,  ihun  tu  Ix  Jit  ve  that  a  ^tone  pvrr  ac'iinrr^.  liu  in. 


60 


OF  A  FUTURE  LIFE. 


rPAKr.  I. 


also  that  they  exist,  when  there  is  no  present  capacity 
of  exercising  them  :  or  that  the  capacities  of  exercising 
them  for  the  present,  as  well  as  the  actual  exercise  of 
them,  maybe  suspended,  and  yet  the  powers  themselves 
remain  undestroyed.  Since  then  we  know  not  at  all 
upon  what  the  existence  of  our  living  powers  depends, 
this  shows  further,  there  can  no  probability  be  collected 
from  the  reason  of  the  thing,  that  death  will  be  their 
destruction:  because  their  existence  may  depend  upon 
somewhat  in  no  degree  affected  by  death  ;  upon  some- 
what quite  out  of  the  reach  of  this  king  of  terrors.  So 
that  there  is  nothing  more  certain,  than  that  the  reason 
of  the  thing  shows  us  no  connexion  between  death 
and  the  destruction  of  living  agents.  Nor  can  we  find 
any  thing  throughout  the  whole  analogy  of  nature,  to 
afford  us  even  the  slightest  presumption,  that  animals 
ever  lose  their  living  powers;  much  less  if  it  were  pos- 
sible, that  they  lose  them  by  death :  for  we  have  no 
faculties  wherewith  to  trace  any  beyond  or  through  it, 
so  as  to  see  what  becomes  of  them.  This  event  removes 
them  from  our  view.  It  destroys  the  sensible  proof, 
which  we  had  before  their  death,  of  their  being  possessed 
of  living  powers,  but  does  not  appear  to  afford  the  least 
reason  to  believe  that  they  are,  then,  or  by  that  event, 
deprived  of  them. 

And  our  knowing,  that  they  were  possessed  of  these 
powers,  up  to  the  very  period  to  which  we  have  faculties 
capable  of  tracing  them,  is  itself  a  probability  of  their 
retaining  them  beyond  it.  And  this  is  confirmed,  and  a 
sensible  credibility  is  given  to  it,  by  observing  the  very 
great  and  astonishing  changes  which  we  have  experi- 
enced; so  great,  that  our  existence  in  another  state  of 
life,  of  perception  and  of  action,  will  be  but  according 
to  a  method  of  providential  conduct,  the  like  to  which 
has  been  already  exercised  even  with  regard  to  our- 
selves; according  to  a  course  of  nature,  the  like  to  which 
we  have  already  gone  through. 

However,  as  one  cannot  but  be  greatly  sensible,  how 
difficult  it  is  to  silence  imagination  enough  to  make  the 
voice  of  reason  even  distinctly  heard  in  this  case;  as  we 
are  accustomed,  from  our  youth  up,  to  indulge  that  for- 


Chap.  I.] 


OF  A  FUTURE  LIFE. 


61 


ward,  delusive  faculty,  ever  obtruding  beyond  its  sphere ; 
of  some  assistance  indeed  to  apprehension,  but  the 
author  of  all  error:  as  we  plainly  lose  ourselves  in  gross 
and  crude  conceptions  of  things,  taking  for  granted  that 
we  are  acquainted  with  what  indeed  we  are  wholly 
ignorant  of:  it  may  be  proper  to  consider  the  imaginary 
presumptions,  that  death  will  be  our  destruction,  arising 
from  these  kinds  of  early  and  lasting  prejudices;  and  to 
show  how  little  they  can  really  amount  to,  even  though 
we  cannot  wholly  divest  ourselves  of  them.  And, 

T.  All  presumption  of  death's  being  the  destruction 
of  living  beings,  must  go  upon  supposition  that  they  are 
compounded;  and  so,  discerptible.  But  since  conscious- 
ness is  ^  single  and  indivisible  power,  it  should  seem 
that  the  subject  in  which  it  resides  must  be  so  too.  For 
were  the  motion  of  any  particle  ofmatter  absolutely  one 
and  indivisible,  so  as  that  it  should  imply  a  contradiction 
to  suppose  part  of  this  motion  to  exist,  and  part  not  to 
exist,  i,  e.  part  of  this  matter  to  move,  and  part  to  be  at 
rest ;  then  its  power  of  motion  would  be  indivisible ; 
and  so  also  would  the  subject  in  which  the  power  inheres, 
namely,  the  particle  of  matter:  for  if  this  could  be  de- 
rided into  tv/o,  one  part  might  be  moved  and  the  other 
at  rest,  which  is  contrary  to  the  supposition.  In  like 
manner  it  has  been  argued,*  and,  for  any  thing  appear- 
ing to  the  contrary,  justly,  that  since  the  perception  or 
consciousness,  which  we  have  of  our  own  existence,  is 
indivisible,  so  as  that  it  is  a  contradiction  to  suppose 
one  part  of  it  should  be  here  and  the  other  there;  the 
perceptive  power,  or  the  power  of  consciousness,  is  in- 
divisible too:  and  consequently  the  subject  in  which  it 
resides;  i.  e.  tlie  conscious  Being.  Now  upon  supposi- 
tion that  living  agent  each  man  calls  himself,  is  thus  a 
single  being,  which  there  is  at  least  no  more  difficulty 
in  conceiving  than  in  conceiving  it  to  be  a  compound, 
and  of  which  there  is  the  proof  now  mentioned;  it  fol- 
lows, that  our  organized  bodies  are  no  more  ourselves 
or  part  of  ourselves,  than  any  other  matter  around  us. 
And  it  is  as  easy  to  conceive,  how  matter,  which  is  no 
part  of  ourselves,  may  be  appropriated  to  us  in  the 

*  See  Dr  Clarke's  Letter  to  Mr  Dodwell,  oiid  the  defeucet  of  it* 


62 


OF  A  FUTURE  LIFE. 


[Part  I. 


manner  wliich  our  present  bodies  are;  as  liow  we  can 
receive  impressions  from,  and  have  power  over,  any 
matter.  It  is  as  easy  to  conceive,  that  we  may  exist 
out  of  bodies,  as  in  them ;  that  we  might  have  animated 
bodies  of  any  other  organs  and  senses  wholly  different 
from  these  now  given  us,  and  that  we  may  hereafter 
animate  these  same  or  new  bodies  variously  modified 
and  organized;  as  to  conceive  how  we  can  animate  such 
bodies  as  our  present.  And  lastly,  the  dissolution  of 
all  these  several  organized  bodies,  supposing  ourselves 
to  have  successively  animated  them,  would  have  no 
more  conceivable  tendency  to  destroy  the  living  beings 
ourselves,  or  deprive  us  of  living  faculties,  the  faculties 
of  perception  and  of  action,  than  the  dissolution  of  any 
foreign  matter,  which  we  are  capable  of  receiving  im- 
pressions from,  and  making  use  of,  for  the  common 
occasions  of  life. 

II.  The  simplicity  and  absolute  oneness  of  a  living 
agent  cannot  indeed,  from  the  nature  of  the  thing,  be 
properly  proved  by  experimental  observations.  But 
as  these  fall  in  with  the  supposition  of  its  unity,  so  they 
plainly  lead  us  to  conclude  certainly,  that  our  gross 
organized  bodies,  with  which  we  perceive  the  objects  of 
sense,  and  with  which  we  act,  are  no  part  of  ourselves ; 
and  therefore  show  us,  that  we  have  no  reason  to  believe 
their  destruction  to  be  ours:  even  without  determining 
whether  our  living  substances  be  material  or  immaterial. 
For  we  see  by  experience,  that  men  may  lose  their 
limbs,  their  organs  of  sense,  and  even  the  greatest  part 
of  these  bodies,  and  yet  remain  the  same  living  agents. 
And  persons  can  trace  up  the  existence  of  themselves 
to  a  time,  when  the  bulk  of  their  bodies  was  extremely 
small,  in  comparison  of  what  it  is  in  mature  age:  and 
we  cannot  but  think,  that  they  might  then  have  lost  a 
considerable  part  of  that  small  body,  and  yet  have  re- 
mained the  same  living  agents;  as  they  may  now  lose 
great  part  of  their  present  body,  and  remain  so.  And 
it  is  certain,  that  the  bodies  of  all  animals  are  in  a  con- 
stant flux,  from  that  never-ceasing  attrition,  which  there 
is  in  every  part  of  them.  Now  things  of  this  kind  un- 
avoidably teach  us  to  distinguish,  between  these  living 


Chap.  I. J 


OF  A  FUTURE  LIFE. 


63 


agents  onr?elves,  and  large  quantities  of  matter,  in 
whirh  we  are  very  nearly  interested:  since  these  may 
be  alienated,  and  actually  are  in  a  daily  course  of  suc- 
cession, and  changing  their  owners  ;  whilst  we  are 
r^.ssured,  that  eacli  living  agent  remains  one  and  the  same 
permanent  being.  *  And  this  general  observation  leads 
us  on  to  the  followinsf  ones. 

Fii^st,  That  we  have  no  way  of  determining  by  ex- 
perience, what  is  the  certain  bulk  of  the  living  being 
each  man  calls  himself:  and  yet,  till  it  be  determined 
that  it  is  larger  in  bulk  than  the  solid  elementary  parti- 
cles of  matter,  which  there  is  no  ground  to  think  any 
natural  power  can  dissolve,  there  is  no  sort  of  reason  to 
think  death  to  be  the  dissolution  of  it,  of  the  living  being, 
even  though  it  should  not  be  absolutely  indiscerptible. 

Secondly,  From  our  being  so  nearly  related  to  and 
interested  in  certain  systems  of  matter,  suppose  our 
flesh  and  bones,  and  afterwards  ceasing  to  be  at  all  re- 
lated to  them,  the  living  agents  ourselves  remaining  all 
this  while  undestroyed  notwithstanding  such  alienation  ; 
and  consequently  these  systems  of  matter  not  being 
ourselves  :  it  follows  further,  that  we  have  no  ground 
to  conclude  any  other,  suppose  internal  systems  of 
matter,  to  be  the  living  agents  ourselves  ;  because  we 
can  have  no  ground  to  conclude  this,  but  from  our  re- 
lation to  and  interest  in  such  other  systems  of  matter : 
and  therefore  we  can  have  no  reason  to  conclude,  what 
befalls  those  systems  of  matter  at  death,  to  be  the  de- 
struction of  the  living  agents.  We  have  already  several 
times  over  lost  a  great  part  or  perhaps  the  whole  of  our 
body,  according  to  certain  common  established  laws  of 
nature ;  yet  we  remain  the  san:ie  living  agents :  when 
we  shall  lose  as  great  a  part,  or  the  whole,  by  another 
common  established  law  of  nature,  death ;  why  mav  we 
not  also  remain  the  same  ?  That  the  alienation  has 
been  gradual  in  one  case,  and  in  the  other  will  be  more 
at  once,  does  not  prove  any  thing  to  the  contrary.  We 
have  passed  undestroyed  tii rough  those  man\  and  great 
revolutions  of  matter,  so  j^eculiarlv  appropriated  to  us 
ourselves ;  why  should  we  imagine  death  wjU  be  so 

•       DisserlaUon  I. 


€4 


OF  A  FUTURE  LIFE. 


[Part  L 


fatal  to  us  ?  Nor  can  it  be  objected,  that  what  is  thus 
alienated  or  lost,  is  no  part  of  our  original  solid  body, 
but  only  adventitious  matter ;  because  we  may  lose 
entire  limbs,  which  must  have  contained  many  solid 
parts  and  vessels  of  the  original  body ;  or  if  this  be  not 
admitted,  we  have  no  proof,  that  any  of  these  solid  parts 
are  dis'solved  or  alienated  by  death.  Though,  by  the 
way,  we  are  very  nearly  related  to  that  extraneous  or 
adventitious  matter,  whilst  it  continues  united  to  and 
distending  the  several  parts  of  our  solid  body.  But 
after  all ;  th^  relation  a  person  bears  to  those  parts  of 
his  body,  to  which  he  is  the  most  nearly  related ;  what 
does  it  appear  to  amount  to  but  this,  that  the  living 
agent,  and  those  parts  of  the  body,  mutually  affect  each 
other  P  And  the  same  thing,  the  same  thing  in  kind 
though  not  in  degree,  may  be  said  of  all  foreign  matter, 
which  gives  us  ideas,  and  which  we  have  any  power 
over.  From  these  observations  the  whole  ground  of 
the  imagination  is  removed,  that  the  dissolution  of  any 
matter,  is  the  destruction  of  a  living  agent,  from  the 
interest  he  once  had  in  such  matter. 

Thirdly,  If  we  consider  our  body  somewhat  more 
distinctly,  as  made  up  of  organs  and  instruments  of 
perception  and  of  motion,  it  will  bring  us  to  the  same 
conclusion.  Thus  the  common  optical  experiments 
show,  and  even  the  observation  how  sight  is  assisted  by 
glasses  shows,  that  we  see  with  our  eyes  in  the  same 
sense  as  we  see  with  glasses.  Nor  is  there  any  reason 
to  believe,  that  we  see  with  them  in  any  other  sense  ; 
any  other,  I  mean,  which  would  lead  us  to  think  the 
eye  itself  a  percipient.  The  like  is  to  be  said  of  hearing: 
and  our  feeling  distant  solid  matter  by  means  of  some- 
what in  our  hand  seems  an  instance  of  the  like  kind, 
as  to  the  subject  we  are  considering.  All  these  are  in- 
stances of  foreign  matter,  or  such  as  is  no  part  of  our 
body,  being  instrumental  in  preparing  objects  for,  and 
conveying  them  to,  the  perceiving  power,  in  a  manner 
similar  or  like  to  the  manner  in  which  our  organs  of 
sense  prepare  and  convey  them.  Both  are  in  a  hke 
way  instruments  of  our  receiving  such  ideas  from  ex- 
ternal objects,  as  the  Author  of  nature  appointed  those 


Chap.  I.] 


OF  A  FUTURE  LIFE. 


65 


external  objects  to  be  the  occasions  of  exciting  in  us. 
However,  glasses  are  evidently  instances  of  this  ;  name 
ly  of  matter  which  is  no  part  of  our  body,  preparing 
objects  for  and  conveying  them  towards  the  perceiving 
power,  in  like  manner  as  our  bodily  organs  do.  And 
if  we  see  with  our  eyes  only  in  the  same  manner  as  we 
do  with  glasses,  the  like  may  justly  be  concluded,  from 
analogy,  of  all  our  other  senses.  It  is  not  intended,  by 
any  thing  here  said,  to  affirm,  that  the  whole  apparatus 
of  vision,  or  of  perception  by  any  other  of  our  senses, 
can  be  traced  through  all  its  steps,  quite  up  to  the  living 
power  of  seeing,  or  perceiving :  but  that  so  far  as  it  can 
be  traced  by  experimental  observations,  so  far  it  appears, 
that  our  organs  of  sense  prepare  and  convey  on  objects, 
in  order  to  their  being  perceived,  in  like  manner  as 
foreign  matter  does,  without  affording  any  shadow  of 
appearance,  that  they  themselves  perceive.  And  that 
we  have  no  reason  to  think  our  organs  of  sense  perci- 
pients, is  confirmed  by  instances  of  persons  losing  some 
of  them,  the  living  beings  themselves,  their  former  oc- 
cupiers, remainmg  unimpaired.  It  is  confirmed  also  by 
the  experience  of  dreams  ;  by  which  we  find  we  are  at 
present  possessed  of  a  latent,  and  what  would  otherwise 
be,  an  unimagined  unknown  power  of  perceiving  sensi- 
ble objects,  in  as  strong  and  lively  a  manner  without  our 
external  organs  of  sense  as  with  them. 

So  also  with  regard  to  our  power  of  moving,  or  direct- 
ing motion  by  will  and  choice  ;  upon  the  destruction  of 
a  limb,  this  active  power  remains,  as  it  evidently  seems, 
unlessened  ;  so  as  that  the  living  being,  who  has  suffer- 
ed this  loss,  would  be  capable  of  moving  as  before,  if  it 
had  another  limb  to  move  with.  It  can  walk  by  the 
help  of  an  artificial  leg  ;  just  as  it  can  make  use  of  a 
pole  or  a  lever,  to  reach  towards  itself  and  to  move 
things,  beyond  the  length  and  tlie  power  of  its  natural 
arm;  and  this  last  it  does  in  the  same  manner  as  it 
reaches  and  moves,  with  its  natural  arm,  things  nearer 
and  of  less  weight.  Nor  is  there  so  much  as  any  ap- 
pearance of  our  limbs  being  endued  with  a  power  of 
moving^or  directing  themselves  ;  though  they  are  adiipt- 
ed,  like  the  several  parts  of  a  machine,  to  be  the  instru- 


I 


66  OF  A  FUTURE  LIFE.  [Part  I. 

merits  of  motion  to  each  otlier ;  and  some  parts  of  the 
same  hmb,  to  be  instruments  of  motion  to  other  parts 
of  it. 

Thus  a  man  determines,  that  he  wili  look  at  such  an 
object  through  a  microscope ;  or  being  lame  suppose, 
that  he  will  walk  to  such  a  place  with  a  staff  a  week 
hence.  His  eyes  and  his  feet  no  more  determine  in 
these  cases,  than  the  microscope  and  the  staff.  Nor  is 
there  any  ground  to  think  they  any  more  put  the  deter- 
mination in  practice  ;  or  that  his  eyes  are  the  seers  or 
his  feet  the  movers,  in  any  other  sense  than  as  the  mi- 
croscope and  the  staff  are.  Upon  the  whole  then,  our 
organs  of  sense  and  our  limbs  are  certainly  instruments, 
which  the  living  persons  ourselves  make  use  of  to  per- 
ceive and  move  with  ;  there  is  not  any  probability,  that 
they  are  any  more ;  nor  consequently,  that  we  have  any 
other  kind  of  relation  to  them,  than  what  we  have  to  any 
other  foreign  matter  formed  into  instruments  of  percep- 
tion and  motion,  suppose  into  a  microscope  or  a  staff  (I 
say  any  other  kind  of  relation,  for  I  am  not  speaking  of 
the  degree  of  it)  ;  nor  consequently  is  there  any  proba- 
bility, that  the  alienation  or  dissolution  of  these  instru- 
ments is  the  destruction  of  the  perceiving  and  moving 
agent. 

And  thus  our  finding,  that  the  dissolution  of  matter, 
in  which  living  beings  were  most  nearly  interested,  is 
not  their  dissolution  ;  and  that  the  destruction  of  several 
of  the  organs  and  instruments  of  perception  and  of  mo- 
tion belonging  to  them,  is  not  their  destruction  ;  shows 
demonstratively,  that  there  is  no  ground  to  think  that 
the  dissolution  of  any  other  matter,  or  destruction  of  any 
other  organs  and  instruments,  will  be  the  dissolution  or 
destruction  of  living  agents,  from  the  like  kind  of  rela- 
tion. And  we  have  no  reason  to  think  we  stand  in  any 
other  kind  of  relation  to  any  thing  which  we  find 
dissolved  by  death. 

But  it  is  said  these  observations  are  equally  applicable 
to  brutes  :  and  it  is  thought  an  insuperable  difficulty,  that 
they  should  be  immortal,  and  by  consequence  capable  of 
everlasting  happiness.  Now  this  manner  of  expression 
is  both  invidious  and  weak  :  but  the  thing  intended  by 


Chap.  I.] 


OF  A  FUTURE  LIFE. 


67 


it,  is  really  no  difficulty  at  all,  either  in  tlie  way  of  na- 
tural or  moral  consideration.  For  1st,  Suppose  the  in- 
vidious thing,  designed  in  such  a  manner  of  expression, 
were  really  implied,  as  it  is  not  in  the  least,  in  the  na- 
tural immortality  of  brutes :  namely,  that  they  must  ar- 
rive at  great  attainments,  and  become  rational  and 
moral  agents;  even  this  would  be  no  difficulty:  since  we 
know  not  what  latent  powers  and  capacities  they  may 
be  endued  with.  There  was  once,  prior  to  experience, 
as  great  presumption  against  human  creatures  as  there 
is  against  the  brute  creatures,  arriving  at  that  degree 
of  understanding,  which  we  have  in  mature  age.  For 
we  can  trace  up  our  own  existence  to  the  same  original 
with  theirs.  And  we  find  it  to  be  a  general  law  of  na- 
ture, that  creatures  endued  with  capacities  of  virtue  and 
religion  should  be  placed  in  a  condition  of  being,  in  which 
they  are  altogether  without  the  use  of  them,  for  a  con- 
siderable length  of  their  duration ;  as  in  infancy  and 
childhood.  And  great  part  of  the  human  species  go  out 
of  the  present  world,  before  they  come  to  the  exercise  of 
these  capacities  in  any  degree  at  all.  But  then,  2dly, 
the  natural  immortality  of  brutes  does  not  in  the  least 
imply,  that  they  are  endued  with  any  latent  capacities  of 
a  rational  or  moral  nature.  And  the  economy  of  the 
universe  might  require,  that  there  should  be  living 
creatures  without  any  capacities  of  this  kind.  And  all 
difficulties  as  to  the  manner  how  they  are  to  be  disposed 
of  are  so  apparently  and  wholly  founded  in  our  ignorance, 
that  it  is  wonderful  they  should  be  insisted  upon  bv  any, 
but  such  as  are  weak  enough  to  think  they  are  acquainted 
with  the  whole  system  of  things.  There  is  then  absolutely 
nothing  at  all  in  this  objection,  which  is  so  rhetorically 
urged,  against  the  greatest  part  of  the  natural  proofs  or 
presumptions  of  the  immortality  of  human  minds  ;  I  say 
the  greatest  part;  for  it  is  less  applicable  to  the  following 
observation,  which  is  more  peculiar  to  mankind: 

III.  That  as  it  is  evident  our  present  powers  and  ca- 
pacities of  reason,  memory,  and  aflfcctioii,  do  not  depend 
upon  our  gross  body  in  the  manner  in  which  perception 
by  our  organs  of  sense  does ;  so  they  do  not  appear  to 
depend  upon  it  at  all  in  any  such  manner,  as  to  give 


68    ^  OF  A  FUTURE  LIFE.  [PARr  I, 

ground  to  think,  that  the  dissolution  of  this  body  will  be 
the  destruction  of  these  our  present  powers  of  reflection, 
as  it  will  of  our  powers  of  sensation ;  or  to  give  ground 
to  conclude,  even  that  it  will  be  so  much  as  a  suspension 
of  the  former. 

Human  creatures  exist  at  present  in  two  states  of  life 
and  perception,  greatly  different  from  each  other;  each 
of  which  has  its  own  peculiar  laws  and  its  own  peculiar 
enjoyments  and  sufferings.    When  any  of  our  senses 
are  affected  or  appetites  gratified  with  the  objects  of 
them,  we  may  be  said  to  exist  or  live  in  a  state  of  sen- 
sation.   When  none  of  our  senses  are  affected  or  ap- 
petites gratified,  and  yet  we  perceive,  and  reason,  and 
act;  we  may  be  said  to  exist  or  live  in  a  state  of  re- 
flection.   Now  it  is  by  no  means  certain,  that  any  thing 
which  is  dissolved  by  death,  is  any  way  necessary  to  the 
living  being  in  this  its  state  of  reflection,  after  ideas  are 
gained.    For,  though,  from  our  present  constitution  and 
condition  of  being,  our  external  organs  of  sense  are  ne- 
cessary for  conveying  in  ideas  to  our  reflecting  powers, 
as  carriages,  and  levers,  and  scaffolds  are  in  architec- 
ture :  yet  when  these  ideas  are  brought  in,  we  are  capa- 
ble of  reflecting  in  the  most  intense  degree,  and  of  en- 
joying the  greatest  pleasure,  and  feeling  the  greatest 
pain,  by  means  of  that  reflection,  without  any  assistance 
from  our  senses  ;  and  without  any  at  all,  which  we  know 
of,  from  that  body  which  will  be  dissolved  by  death.  It 
does  not  appear  then,  that  the  relation  of  this  gross  body 
to  the  reflecting  being  is,  in  any  degree,  necessary  to 
thinking  ;  to  our  intellectual  enjoyments  or  sufferings : 
nor,  consequently,  that  the  dissolution  or  alienation  of 
the  former  by  death,  will  be  the  destruction  of  those  pre- 
sent powers,  which  render  us  capable  of  this  state  of  re- 
flection.   Further,  there  are  instances  of  mortal  diseases, 
which  do  not  at  all  affect  our  present  intellectual  powers ; 
and  this  affords  a  presumption,  that  those  diseases  will 
not  destroy  these  present  powers.    Indeed,  from  the  ob- 
servations made  above,  *  it  appears,  that  there  is  no  pre- 
sumption, from  their  mutually  affecting  each  other,  that 
the  dissolution  of  the  body  is  the  destruction  of  the  liv- 

*  Pp.  64,05. 


Cbaf.  I.] 


OF  A  FUTURE  LTFE. 


ing  agent.    And  by  the  same  reasoning,  it  must  appear 
too,  that  there  is  no  presumption,  from  their  mutually- 
affecting  each  other,  that  the  dissolution  of  the  body  is 
.the  destruction  of  our  present  reflecting  powers  :  but  in- 
stances of  their  not  affecting  each  other,  afford  a  pre- 
sumption of  the  contrary.    Instances  of  mortal  diseases 
not  impairing  our  present  reflecting  powers,  evidently 
tm'n  our  thou2:hts  even  from  imafrinins:  such  diseases  to 
be  the  destruction  of  them.     Several  things  indeed 
greatly  affect  all  our  living  powers,  and  at  length  sus- 
pend the  exercise  of  them  ;  as  for  instance  drowsiness, 
increasing  till  it  ends  in  sound  sleep  :  and  from  hence 
we  might  have  imagined  it  would  destroy  them,  till  we 
found  by  experience  the  weakness  of  this  way  of  judg- 
ing.   But  in  the  diseases  now  mentioned,  there  is  not 
so  much  as  this  shadow  of  probability,  to  lead  us  to  any 
such  conclusion,  as  to  the  reflecting  powers  which  we 
have  at  present.    For  in  those  diseases,  persons  the 
moment  before  death  appear  to  be  in  the  highest  vigour 
of  life.    They  discover  apprehension,  memory,  reason, 
all  entire ;  with  the  utmost  force  of  r.ffection  ;  sense  of  a 
character,  of  shame  and  honour  ;  and  the  highest  mental 
enjoyments  and  sufferings,  even  to  the  last  gasp  :  and 
tliese  surely  prove  even  greater  vigour  of  life  than  bodily 
strength  does.    Now  what  pretence  is  there  for  think- 
ing, that  a  progressive  disease  when  arrived  to  such  a 
degree,  I  mean  that  degree  which  is  mortal,  will  destroy 
those  powers,  which  were  not  impaired,  which  were  not 
affected  by  it,  during  its  whole  progress  quite  up  to 
that  degree  ?     And  if  death  by  diseases  of  this  kind 
.is  not  the  destruction  of  our  present  reflecting  powers, 
it  will  scarce  be  thought  that  death  by  any  other 
means  is. 

It  is  obvious  that  this  general  observation  may  be  car- 
ried on  further:  and  there  appears  so  little  connexion 
between  our  bodily  powers  of  sensation,  and  our  pre- 
sent powers  of  reflection,  tliat  there  is  no  reason  to  con- 
clude, that  death,  which  destroys  the  former,  does  so 
much  as  suspend  the  exercise  of  the  litter,  or  interrupt 
our  continiiimj  to  exist  in  the  like  state  of  reflection  which 
we  do  now.    For  suspension  of  reason,  memory,  and 


70 


OP  A  FUTURE  LIFE. 


[Part  I.' 


the  affections  which  they  excite,  is  no  part  of  the  idea  of 
death,  nor  is  impHed  in  our  notion  of  it.  And  our  daily- 
experiencing  these  powers  to  be  exercised,  without  any 
assistance,  that  we  know  of,  from  those  bodies,  which 
will  be  dissolved  by  death ;  and  our  finding  often,  that 
the  exercise  of  them  is  so  lively  to  the  last ;  these  things 
afford  a  sensible  apprehension,  that  death  may  not  per- 
haps be  so  much  as  a  discontinuance  of  the  exercise  of 
these  powers,  nor  of  the  enjoyments  and  sufferings  which 
it  implies.*  So  that  our  posthumous  life,  whatever  there 
may  be  in  it  additional  to  our  present,  yet  may  not  be 
entirely  beginning  anew ;  but  going  on.  Death  may, 
in  some  sort  and  in  some  respects,  answer  to  our 
hirth  ;  which  is  not  a  suspension  of  the  faculties  which 
we  had  before  it,  or  a  total  change  of  the  state  of 
life  in  which  we  existed  when  in  the  womb ;  but 
a  continuation  of  both,  with  such  and  such  great  al- 
terations. 

Nay,  for  ought  we  know  of  ourselves,  of  our  present 
life  and  of  death ;  death  may  immediately,  in  the  natural 
course  of  things,  put  us  into  a  higher  and  more  enlarged 
state  of  life,  as  our  birth  does;t  a  state  in  which  our 
capacities,  and  sphere  of  perception  and  of  action,  may 
be  much  greater  than  at  present.  For  as  our  relation 
to  our  external  organs  of  sense,  renders  us  capable  of  ex- 
isting in  our  present  state  of  sensation;  so  it  may  be  the 
only  natural  hinderance  to  our  existing,  immediately,  and 
of  course,  in  a  higher  state  of  reflection.  The  truth  is, 
reason  does  not  at  all  show  us,  in  what  state  death  na- 
turally leaves  us.  But  were  we  sure,  that  it  would  sus- 
pend all  our  perceptive  and  active  powers;  yet  the  sus- 
pension of  a  power  and  the  destruction  of  it,  are  effects 

♦There  are  three  distinct  questions,  relating  to  a  future  life,  here  considered: 
Whether  death  be  the  destruction  of  \\vh\(r  agents  ;  if  not,  Whether  it  be  the 
destruction  of  thv\r  present  powers  of  reflection,  as  it  Cf-rtjiinly  is  the  destruction  of 
their  present  powers  of  sensation  ;  and  if  not,  Wiiether  it  be  the  suspension,  or  dis- 
continuance of  the  exercise  of  these  present  refleciing  powers.  Now,  if  there  be  no 
reason  to  believe  the  last,  there  will  be,  if'  that  were  possible,  less  for  the  next,  and 
less  still  for  the  first. 

•j-  Tliis,  according  to  Strabo,  was  the  opinion  of  the  Brachmans,  ve^/^./y      yk^  }y 

TOf  tv}<tifA0ta  To'is  (ptXcrn^rctirf  Lib.  XV.  p.  1039,  Ed.  Amst.  1707.  To  which  opinion 
perhaps  Antoninus  may  allude  in  words,  i;  1Z1  <rif</*iyi<t,  -toti  ?^/J^t/»»  •»  rUt 

ttirtu  iKxtffilTBLt,    Lib.  ix.  C.  3. 


Chap.  I.] 


OF  A  FUTURE  LIFE. 


71 


so  totally  different  in  kind,  as  we  experience  from  sleep 
and  a  swoon,  that  we  cannot  in  any  wise  argue  from  one 
to  the  other ;  or  conclude  even  to  the  lowest  degree  of  pro-' 
babilitv,  that  the  same  kind  of  force  which  is  sufficient 
to  suspend  our  faculties,  though  it  be  increased  ever  so 
much,  will  be  sufficient  to  destroy  them. 

These  observations  together  may  be  sufficient  to  show, 
how  little  presumption  there  is,  that  death  is  the  destruc- 
tion of  human  creatures.  However,  there  is  the  shadow 
of  an  analogy,  which  may  lead  us  to  imagine  it  is  the 
supposed  likeness  which  is  observed  between  the  decay 
of  vegetables,  and  of  living  creatures.  And  this  likeness 
is  indeed  sufficient  to  afford  the  poets  very  apt  allusions 
to  the  flowers  of  the  field,  in  their  pictures  of  the  frailty 
of  our  present  life.  But  in  reason,  the  analogy  is  so  far 
from  holding,  that  there  appears  no  ground  even  for  the 
comparison,  as  to  the  present  question;  because  one  of 
the  two  subjects  compared  is  wholly  void  of  that,  which 
is  the  principal  and  chief  thing  in  the  other,  the  power  of 
perception  and  of  action  ;  and  which  is  the  only  thing  we 
are  inquiring  about  the  continuance  of  So  that  the  de- 
struction of  a  vegetable,  is  an  event  not  similar  or  analo- 
gous to  the  destruction  of  a  living  agent. 

But  if,  as  was  above  intimated,  leaving  off  the  delusive 
custom  of  substituting  imagination  in  the  room  of  expe- 
rience, we  would  confine  ourselves  to  what  we  do  know 
and  understand ;  if  we  would  argue  only  from  that,  and 
from  that  form  our  expectations ;  it  would  appear  at  first 
sight,  that  as  no  probability  of  living  beings  ever  ceasing 
to  be  so,  can  be  concluded  from  the  reason  of  the  thins; 
so  none  can  be  collected  from  the  analogy  of  Nature ; 
because  we  cannot  trace  any  living  beings  beyond  death. 
But  as  we  are  conscious  that  we  are  endued  with  capaci- 
ties of  perception  and  of  action,  and  are  living  persons; 
what  we  are  to  go  upon  is,  that  we  shall  continue  so,  till 
wc  foresee  some  accident  or  event,  which  will  endanger 
those  capacities,  or  be  likely  to  destroy  us:  which  death 
does  in  no  wise  appear  to  be. 

And  thus,  when  we  go  out  of  this  world,  we  may 
pass  into  new  scenes,  and  a  new  state  of  life  and  action, 
iust  as  naturally  as  we  came  into  the  present.    And  this 


7^ 


OP  A  FUTURE  LIFE. 


Part  I. 


new  state  may  naturally  be  a  social  one.  And  the  advan- 
tages of  it,  advantages  of  every  kind,  may  naturally  be  be- 
stowed, according  to  some  fixed  general  laws  of  wisdom, 
upon  every  one  in  proportion  to  the  degrees  of  his  virtue. 
And  though  the  advantages  of  that  future  natural  state 
should  not  be  bestowed,  as  these  of  the  present  in  some 
measure  are,  by  the  will  of  the  society;  but  entirely  by 
his  more  immediate  action,  upon  whom  the  whole  frame 
of  nature  depends :  yet  this  distribution  may  be  just  as 
natural,  as  their  being  distributed  here  by  the  instru- 
mentality of  men.  And  indeed,  though  one  were  to  al- 
low any  confused  undetermined  sense,  which  people 
please  to  put  upon  the  word  natural,  it  would  be  a  short- 
ness of  thought  scarce  credible,  to  imagine,  that  no  sys- 
tem or  course  of  things  can  be  so,  but  only  what  we  see 
at  present:*  especially  whilst  the  probabihty  of  a  future 
life,  or  the  natural  immortality  of  the  soul,  is  admitted 
upon  the  evidence  of  reason ;  because  this  is  really  both 
admitting  and  denying  at  once,  a  state  of  being  different 
from  the  present  to  be  natural.  But  the  only  distinct 
meaning  of  that  word  is,  stated,  fixed,  or  settled:  since 
what  is  natural  as  much  requires  and  presupposes  an 
inteUigent  agent  to  render  it  so,  i.  e.  to  effect  it  continual- 
ly, or  at  stated  times;  as  what  is  supernatural  or  miracu- 
lous does  to  effect  it  for  once.  And  from  hence  it  must 
follow,  that  persons'  notion  of  what  is  natural,  will  be 
enlarged  in  proportion  to  their  greater  knowledge  of  the 
works  of  God,  and  the  dispensations  of  his  Providence. 
Nor  is  there  any  absurdity  in  supposing,  that  there  may 
be  beings  in  the  universe,  whose  capacities,  and  know- 
ledge, and  views,  may  be  so  extensive,  as  that  the  whole 
Christian  dispensation  may  to  them  appear  natural,  i.  e, 
analogous  or  conformable  to  God's  dealings  with  other 
parts  of  his  creation ;  as  natural  as  the  visible  known 
course  of  things  appears  to  us.  For  there  seems  scarce 
any  other  possible  sense  to  be  put  upon  the  word,  but 
that  only  in  which  it  is  here  used ;  similar,  stated,  or  uni- 
form. 

This  credibility  of  a  future  life,  wliich  has  been  here  in- 
sisted upon,  how  little  soever  it  may  satisfy  our  curiosity, 

*  See  Part  U.  Cliup.  ii.  and  Part  II.  Ciii.i*.  Iv. 


Chap.  I.]  OF  A  FUTURE  LIFE. 

seems  to  answer  all  the  purposes  of  r^ligion^  in  like 
manner  as  a  demonstrative  proof  would.  Indeed  a  proof, 
even  a  demonstrative  one,  of  a  future  life,  woUxd  not  be 
a  proof  of  religion.  For,  that  we  are  to  live  hereafter, 
is  just  as  reconcilable  with  the  scheme  of  atheism,  and 
as  well  to  be  accounted  for  by  it,  as  that  we  are  now  alive 
is:  and  therefore  nothing  can  be  more  absurd  than  to 
argue  from  that  scheme,  that  there  can  be  no  future  state. 
But  as  religion  implies  a  future  state,  any  presumption 
against  such  a  state,  is  a  presumption  against  religion. 
And  the  foregoing  observations  remove  all  presumptions 
of  that  sort,  and  prove,  to  a  very  considerable  degree  of 
probability,  one  fundamental  doctrine  of  religion ;  which, 
if  beheved,  would  greatly  open  and  dispose  the  mind 
seriously  to  attend  to  the  general  evidence  of  the  whole. 

CHAP.  II. 

OF  THE  GOVERNMENT  OF  GOD  BY  REWARDS  AND  PUNISH- 
MENTS; AND  PARTICULARLY  OF  THE  LATTER. 

That  which  makes  the  question  concerning  a  futurs  life 
to  be  of  so  great  importance  to  us,  is  our  capacity  of  hap- 
piness and  misery.  And  that  which  makes  the  consi- 
deration of  it  to  be  of  so  great  importance  to  us,  is  the 
supposition  of  our  happiness  and  misery  hereafter  de- 
pending upon  our  actions  here.  Without  this  indeed, 
curiosity  could  not  but  sometimes  bring  a  subject,  in 
which  we  may  be  so  highly  interested,  to  our  thoughts; 
especially  upon  the  mortality  of  others,  or  the  near  pro- 
spect of  our  own.  But  reasonable  men  would  not  take 
any  further  thought  about  hereafter,  than  what  should 
happen  thus  occasionally  to  rise  in  their  minds,  if  it  were 
certain  that  our  future  interest  no  way  depended  upon 
our  present  behaviour;  whereas,  on  the  contrary,  if  there 
be  gromid,  either  from  analogy  or  any  thing  else,  to  think 
it  does  ;  then  there  is  reason  also  for  the  most  active 
thought  and  solicitude,  to  secure  that  interest;  to  behave 
so  as  that  we  may  escape  that  misery,  and  ol)tain  that 
happiness,  in  another  life,  which  we  not  only  siippose 
ourselves  capable  of,  but  whidi  we  apprehend  also  is 


74  OP  THE  GOVERNMENT  OF  GOD 


£Part  t 


put  in  our  own  power.  And  whether  there  be  ground 
for  this  last  apprehension,  certainly  would  deserve  to  be 
most  seriously  considered,  were  there  no  other  proof  of 
a  future  life  and  interest,  than  that  presumptive  one, 
which  the  foregoing  observations  amount  to. 

Now  in  the  present  state,  all  which  we  enjoy,  and  a 
great  part  of  what  we  suffer,  is  put  in  our  own  power. 
For  pleasure  and  pain  are  the  consequences  of  our  ac- 
tions ;  and  we  are  endued  by  the  Author  of  our  nature 
with  capacities  of  foreseeing  these  consequences.  We 
find  by  experience  he  does  not  so  much  as  preserve 
our  lives,  exclusively  of  our  own  care  and  attention,  to 
provide  ourselves  with,  and  to  make  use  of,  that  suste- 
nance, by  which  he  has  appointed  our  lives  shall  be  pre- 
served; and  without  which,  he  has  appointed,  they  shall 
not  be  preserved  at  all.  And  in  general  we  foresee,  that 
the  external  things,  which  are  the  objects  of  our  various 
passions,  can  neither  be  obtained  nor  enjoyed,  without 
exerting  ourselves  in  such  and  such  manners  :  but  by  thus 
exerting  ourselves,  we  obtain  and  enjoy  these  objects,  in 
which  our  natural  good  consists  ;  or  by  this  means  God 
gives  us  the  possession  and  enjoyment  of  them.  I  know 
not,  that  we  have  any  one  kind  or  degree  of  enjoyment,  but 
by  the  means  of  our  own  actions.  And  by  prudence  and 
care,  we  may,  for  the  most  part,  pass  our  days  in  tolera- 
ble ease  and  quiet :  or,  on  the  contrary,  we  may,  by  rash- 
ness, ungoverned  passion,  wilfulness,  or  even  by  negli- 
gence, make  ourselves  as  miserable  as  ever  we  please. 
And  many  do  please  to  make  themselves^extremely  mis- 
erable, i.  e.  to  do  what  they  know  beforehand  will  render 
them  so.  They  follow  those  ways,  the  fruit  of  which 
they  know,  by  instruction,  example,  experience,  will  be 
disgrace,  and  poverty,  and  sickness,  and  untimely  death. 
This  every  one  observes  to  be  the  general  course  of 
things ;  though  it  is  to  be  allowed,  we  cannot  find  by  ex- 
perience, that  all  our  sufferings  are  owing  to  our  own 
follies. 

Why  the  Author  of  Nature  does  not  give  his  crea- 
tures promiscuously  such  and  such  perceptions,  without 
regard  to  their  behaviour ;  why  he  does  not  make  them 
happy  without  the  i;.s':r;imentalitv  of  their  own  actions, 


(Ceap.  BY  REWARDS  AND  PUNISHMENTS.  75 

and  prevent  their  "bringing  any  sufferings  upon  them- 
selves ;  is  another  matter.  Perhaps  there  may  be  some 
impossibilities  in  the  nature  of  things,  which  we  are  un- 
acquainted with.*  Or  less  happiness,  it  may  be,  would 
upon  the  whole  be  produced  by  such  a  method  of  con- 
duct, than  is  by  the  present.  Or  perhaps  divine  good- 
ness, with  which,  if  I  mistake  not,  we  make  very  free  in 
our  speculations,  may  not  be  a  bare  single  disposition  to  \ 
produce  happiness;  but  a  disposition  to  make  the  good, 
the  faithful,  the  honest  man  happy.  Perhaps  an  infi- 
nitely perfect  Mind  may  be  pleased  with  seeing  his 
creatures  behave  suitably  to  the  nature  which  he  has 
given  them ;  to  the  relations  which  he  has  placed  them 
in  to  each  other ;  and  to  that  which  they  stand  in  to 
himself:  that  relation  to  himself,  which,  during  their  ex- 
istence, is  even  necessary,  and  which  is  the  most  im- 
portant one  of  all :  perhaps,  I  say,  an  infinitely  perfect 
Mind  may  be  pleased  with  this  moral  piety  of  moral 
agents,  in  and  for  itself;  as  well  as  upon  account  of  its 
being  essentially  conducive  to  the  happiness  of  his  crea- 
tion. Or  the  whole  end,  for  which  God  made,  and  thus 
governs  the  world,  may  be  utterly  beyond  the  reach  of 
our  faculties:  there  may  be  somewhat  in  it  as  impossible 
for  us  to  have  any  conception  of,  as  for  a  blind  man  to 
have  a  conception  of  colours.  But  however  this  be,  it 
is  certain  matter  of  universal  experience,  that  the  gene- 
ral method  of  divine  administration  is,  forewarning  us, 
or  giving  us  capacities  to  foresee,  with  more  or  less  clear- 
ness, that  if  we  act  so  and  so,  we  shall  have  such  enjoy- 
ments, if  so  and  so,  such  sufferings;  and  giving  us  those 
enjoyments,  and  making  us  feel  those  sufferings,  in  con- 
sequence of  our  actions. 

"  But  all  this  is  to  be  ascribed  to  the  general  course  . 
of  nature.'*    True.    This  is  the  very  thing  which  I  am 
observing.    It  is  to  be  ascribed  to  the  general  course  of 
nature :  i.  e.  not  surely  to  the  words  or  ideas,  course  of 
nature ;  but  to  him  who  appointed  it,  and  put  things  into 
it:  or  to  a  course  of  operation,  from  its  uniformity  or 
constancy,  called  natural;!  and  which  necessarily  im- 
plies an  operatnig  agent.    For  wIhmi  men  find  them- 

•  Part  I.  Chap.  vil.  f  P.  72. 


76  OF  THE  GOVERNMENT  OF  GOD  |]Part.  I. 

selves  necessitated  to  confess  an  Author  of  Nature,  or 
that  God  is  the  natural  governor  of  the  world;  they 
must  not  deny  this  again,  because  his  government  is  uni- 
form ;  they  must  not  deny  that  he  does  things  at  all,  be- 
cause he  does  them  constantly;  because  the  effects  of  his 
acting  are  permanent,  whether  his  acting  be  so  or  not ; 
though  there  is  no  reason  to  think  it  is  not.  In  short, 
every  man,  in  every  thing  he  does,  naturally  acts  upon 
the  forethought  and  apprehension  of  avoiding  evil  or  ob- 
taining good:  and  if  the  natural  course  of  things  be  the 
appointment  of  God,  and  our  natural  faculties  of  know- 
ledge and  experience  are  given  us  by  him;  then  the 
good  and  bad  consequences  which  follow  our  actions, 
are  his  appointment,  and  our  foresight  of  those  conse- 
quences, is  a  warning  given  us  by  him,  how  we  are  to 
act. 

"  Is  the  pleasure  then,  naturally  accompanying  every 
particular  gratification  of  passion,  intended  to  put  us  up- 
on gratifying  ourselves  in  every  such  particular  instance, 
and  as  a  reward  to  us  for  so  doing?"  No  certainly. 
Nor  is  it  to  be  said,  that  our  eyes  were  naturally  intend- 
ed to  give  us  the  sight  of  each  particular  object,  to  which 
they  do  or  can  extend;  objects  which  are  destructive  of 
them,  or  which,  for  any  other  reason,  it  may  become  us 
to  turn  our  eyes  from.  Yet  there  is  no  doubt,  but  that 
our  eyes  were  intended  for  us  to  see  with.  So  neither 
is  there  any  doubt,  but  that  the  foreseen  pleasures  and 
pains  belonging  to  the  passions,  were  intended,  in  general, 
to  induce  mankind  to  act  in  such  and  such  manners. 

Now  from  this  general  observation,  obvious  to  every 
one,  that  God  has  given  us  to  understand,  he  has  appoint- 
ed satisfaction  and  delight  to  be  the  consequence  of  our 
acting  in  one  manner,  and  pain  and  uneasiness  of  our 
acting  in  another,  and  of  our  not  acting  at  all ;  and  that 
we  find  the  consequences,  which  we  were  beforehand 
informed  of,  uniformly  to  follow;  we  may  learn,  that  we 
are  at  present  actually  under  his  government  in  the 
strictest  and  most  proper  sense ;  in  such  a  sense,  as  that 
he  rewards  and  punishes  us  for  our  actions  An  Author 
of  nature  being  supposed,  it  is  not  so  much  a  deduction 
of  reason,  as  a  matter  of  experience,  that  wc  are  thus 


chap.'h.]       by  rewards  and  punishments.  77 

under  his  government;  under  his  government,  in  the 
same  sense,  as  we  are  under  the  government  of  civil 
magistrates.  Because  the  annexing  pleasure  to  some 
actions,  and  pain  to  others,  in  our  power  to  do  or  for- 
bear, and  giving  notice  of  this  appointment  beforehand 
to  those  whom  it  concerns;  is  the  proper  formal  notion 
of  government.  Whether  the  pleasure  or  pain  which 
thus  follows  upon  our  behaviour,  be  owing  to  the  Author 
of  Nature's  acting  upon  us  every  moment  which  we  feel 
it;  or  to  his  having  at  once  contrived  and  executed  his 
own  part  in  the  plan  of  the  world;  makes  no  alteration 
as  to  the  matter  before  us.  For  if  civil  magistrates 
could  make  the  sanctions  of  their  laws  take  place,  with* 
out  interposing  at  all,  after  they  had  passed  them;  with- 
out a  trial,  and  the  formalities  of  an  execution:  if  they 
were  able  to  make  their  laws  execute  themselves,  or 
every  offender  to  execute  them  upon  himself;  we  should 
be  just  in  the  same  sense  under  their  government  then, 
as  we  are  now;  but  in  a  much  higher  degree,  and  more 
perfect  manner.  Vain  is  the  ridicule,  with  which  one 
foresees  some  persons  will  divert  themselves,  upon  find- 
ing lesser  pains  considered  as  instances  of  divine  pun- 
ishment. There  is  no  possibility  of  answering  or  evad- 
ing the  general  thing  here  intended,  without  denying  all 
final  causes.  For  final  causes  being  admitted,  the  plea- 
sures and  pains  now  mentioned  must  be  admitted  too 
as  instances  of  them.  And  if  they  are;  if  God  annexes 
delight  to  some  actions,  and  uneasiness  toothers,  with 
an  apparent  design  to  induce  us  to  act  so  and  so:  then  he 
not  only  dispenses  happiness  and  misery,  but  also  re-, 
wards  and  punishes  actions.  If,  for  example,  the  pain 
which  we  feel,  upon  doing  what  tends  to  the  destruction 
of  our  bodies,  suppose  upon  too  near  approaches  to  fire,' 
or  upon  wounding  ourselves,  be  appointed  by  the  Author 
of  Nature  to  prevent  our  doing  what  thus  tends  to  our' 
destruction;  this  is  altogether  as  much  an  instance  of 
his  punishing  our  actions,  and  consequently  of  our  be-, 
ing  under  his  government,  as  declarinij;  by  a  voice  from> 
heaven,  that  if  we  acted  so,  he  would  inflict  such  pain> 
upon  us,  and  inflicting  it,  whether  it  be  greater  or  less.  ^ 
Thus  we  find,  that  the  true  notion  oi  conception  of 


78  OF  THE  GOVERNMENT  OF  GOD  CPart  I. 

the  Author  of  Nature,  is  that  of  a  master  or  governor, 
prior  to  the  consideration  of  his  moral  attributes.  The 
fact  of  our  case,  which  we  find  by  experience,  is,  that 
he  actually  exercises  dominion  or  government  over  us 
at  present,  by  rewarding  and  punishing  us  for  our  ac- 
tions, in  as  strict  and  proper  a  sense  of  these  words, 
and  even  in  the  same  sense,  as  children,  servants,  sub- 
jects, are  rewarded  and  punished  by  those  who  govern 
them. 

,  And  thus  the  whole  analogy  of  Nature,  the  whole  pre- 
sent course  of  things,  most  fully  shows,  that  there  is 
nothing  incredible  in  the  general  doctrine  of  religion, 
that  God  will  reward  and  punish  men  for  their  actions 
hereafter:  nothing  incredible,  I  mean,  arising  out  of  the 
notion  of  rewarding  and  punishing.  For  the  whole 
course  of  nature  is  a  present  instance  of  his  exercising 
that  government  over  us,  which  implies  in  it  rewarding 
and  punishing. 

'  But  as  divine  punishment  is  what  men  chiefly  object 
against,  and  are  most  unwilling  to  allow;  it  may  be  pro- 
per to  mention  some  circumstances  in  the  natural  course 
of  punishments  at  present,  which  are  analogous  to  what 
religion  teaches  us  concerning  a  future  state  of  punish- 
ment; indeed  so  analogous,  that  as  they  add  a  further 
credibility  to  it,  so  they  cannot  but  raise  a  most  serious 
apprehension  of  it  in  those  who  will  attend  to  them. 

It  has  been  now  observed,  that  such  and  such  mise- 
ries naturally  follow  such  and  such  actions  of  imprudence 
and  wilfulness,  as  well  as  actions  more  commonly  and 
more  distinctly  considered  as  vicious;  and  that  these 
consequences,  when  they  may  be  foreseen,  are  properly 
natural  punishments  annexed  to  such  actions.  For  the 
general  thing  here  insisted  upon,  is,  not  that  we  see  a 
great  deal  of  misery  in  the  world,  but  a  great  deal  which 
men  bring  upon  themselves  by  their  own  behaviour, 
which  they  might  have  foreseen  and  avoided.  Now  the 
circumstances  of  these  natural  punishments,  particularly 
deserving  our  attention,  are  such  as  these ;  That  often- 
times they  follow,  or  are  inflicted  in  consequence  of,  ac- 
tions which  procure  many  present  advantages,  and  are 


OSAP.  II.]  BY  PUNISHMENTS.  79 

accompanied  with  much  present  pleasure  ;  for  instance, 
sickness  and  untimely  death  are  the  consequence  of  intem- 
perance, though  accompanied  with  the  highest  mirth  and 
jollity:  that  these  punishments  are  often  much  greater, 
than  the  advantages  or  pleasures  obtained  by  the  actions, 
of  which  they  are  the  punishments  or  consequences : 
that  though  we  may  imagine  a  constitution  of  nature,  in 
which  these  natural  punishments,  which  are  in  fact  to 
follow,  would  follow,  immediately  upon  such  actions  be- 
ing done,  or  very  soon  after  ;  we  find  on  the  contrary  in 
our  world,  that  they  are  often  delayed  a  great  while, 
sometimes  even  till  long  after  the  actions  occasioning 
them  are  forgot ;  so  that  the  constitution  of  nature  is  such, 
that  delay  of  punishment  is  no  sort  nor  degree  of  pre- 
sumption of  final  impunity :  that  after  such  delay,  these 
natural  punishments  or  miseries  often  come,  not  by  de- 
gree?, but  suddenly,  with  violence,  and  at  once ;  however, 
the  chief  misery  often  does:  that  as  certainty  of  such  dis- 
tant misery  following  such  actions,  is  never  afforded  per- 
sons ;  so  perhaps  during  the  actions,  they  have  seldom  a 
distinct, full  expectation  of  its  following:*  and  many  times 
the  case  is  only  thus,  that  they  see  in  general,  or  may  see, 
the  credibihty,  that  intemperance,  suppose,  will  bring 
after  it  diseases ;  civil  crimes,  civil  punishments ;  when  yet 
the  real  probability  often  is,  that  they  shall  escape;  but 
things  notwithstanding  take  their  destined  course,  and 
Ihe  misery  inevitably  follows  at  its  appointed  time,  in  very 
many  of  these  cases.  Thus  also  though  youth  may  be  al- 
leged as  an  excuse  for  rashness  and  folly,  as  being  na- 
turally thoughtless,  and  not  clearly  foreseeing  all  the  con- 
sequences of  being  untractable  and  profligate ;  this  does 
not  hinder,  but  that  these  consequences  follow;  and  are 
grievously  felt,  throughout  the  whole  course  of  mature 
life.  Habits  contracted  even  in  that  age,  are  often  utter 
ruin:  and  men's  success  in  the  world,  not  only  in  the 
common  sense  of  worldly  success,  but  their  real  happi- 
ness and  misery,  depends,  in  a  great  degree,  and  in  va- 
rious ways,  upon  the  manner  in  whicli  they  pass  their 
youth ;  which  consequences  they  for  the  most  part  ne- 


«  See  Tart  II.  Cliap.  \n. 


•80  OF  THE  GOVERNMENT  OF  GOD  [Paw  I. 

gleet  to  consider,  and  perhaps  seldom  can  properly  be 
said  to  believe,  beforehand.  It  requires  also  to  be  men- 
tioned, that,  in  numberless  cases,  the  natural  course  of 
things  affords  us  opportunities  for  procuring  advantages 
to  ourselves  at  certain  times,  which  we  cannot  procure 
when  we  will;  nor  ever  recall  the  opportunities,  if  we 
have  neglected  them.  Indeed  the  general  course  of  na- 
ture is  an  example  of  this.  If,  during  the  opportunity  ol 
youth,  persons  are  indocile  and  self-willed;  they  inevita- 
bly suffer  in  their  future  life,  for  want  of  those  acquire- 
ments, which  they  neglected  the  natural  season  of  attain- 
ing. If  the  husbandman  lets  his  seedtime  pass  without 
sowing,  the  whole  year  is  lost  to  him  beyond  recovery. 
In  like  manner,  though  after  men  have  been  guilty  of 
folly  and  extravagance  up  to  a  certain  degree,  it  is  often  in 
their  power,  for  instance,  to  retrieve  their  affairs,  to  recov- 
er their  health  and  character;  at  least  in  good  measure; 
yet  real  reformation  is  in  many  cases,  of  no  avail  at  all  to- 
wards preventing  the  miseries,  poverty,  sickness,  in- 
famy, naturally  annexed  to  folly  and  extravagance  exceed- 
ing that  degree.  There  is  a  certain  bound  to  imprudence 
and  misbehaviour,  which  being  transgressed,  there  re- 
mains no  place  for  repentance  in  the  natural  course  of 
things.  It  is  further  very  much  to  be  remarked,  that 
neglects  from  inconsiderateness,  want  of  attention,*  not 
looking  about  us  to  see  what  we  have  to  do,  are  often  at- 
tended with  consequences  altogether  as  dreadful,  as  any 
active  misbehaviour,  from  the  most  extravagant  passion. 
And  lastly,  civil  government  being  natural,  the  punish- 
ments of  it  are  so  too :  and  some  of  these  punishments 
are  capital ;  as  the  effects  of  a  dissolute  course  of  pleasure 
are  often  mortal.  So  that  many  natural  punishments  are 
final  t  to  him  who  incurs  them,  if  considered  only  in  his 

*Part  n.  Chap.  vi. 

•{•  The  general  consideration  of  a  future  state  of  punishment,  most  evidently  be- 
longs to  the  subject  of  natural  Rfligion.  But  if  any  of  these  reflections  should  be 
thoiiijlit  lo  relate  more  peculiarly  to  this  doctrine,  as  taught  in  Scripture  ;  the  read- 
er is  desired  to  observe,  that  CictiLile  writers,  bolli  moralists  and  poets,  speak  of  the 
fut\jre  puiiishtru  nt  of  the  wickt'd,  lx)th  as  to  the  duration  and  degree  of  it,  in  a  like 
maiiiicr  of  expression  and  of  tiescriiiiion,  as  tiie  Scripture  does.  So  that  all  which 
CUM  jjosiiively  be  asscrtf'd  lo  be  niatter  of  mere  Revelation,  with  regard  to  this  doc- 
trine, seems  to  be,  tliat  the  great  distinction  between  the  righteous  and  the  wicked, 
shall  be  made  at  tlie  end  of  LhU  workl ;  that  e  ich  shall  UiCTt  receive  according  to  hia 


Chap.  IL] 


BY  PUNISHMENTS. 


81 


temporal  capacity:  and  seem  inflicted  by  natural  ap- 
pointment, either  to  remove  the  offender  out  of  the  way 
of  being  further  mischievous ;  or  as  an  example,  though 
frequently  a  disregarded  one,  to  those  who  are  left  be- 
hind. 

These  things  are  not  what  we  call  accidental,  or  to 
be  met  with  only  now  and  then ;  but  they  are  things  of 
every  day's  experience:  they  proceed  from  general  laws, 
very  general  ones,  by  which  God  governs  the  world, 
in  the  natural  course  of  his  providence.  And  they 
are  so  analogous,  to  what  Religion  teaches  us  concern- 
ing the  future  punishment  of  the  wicked,  so  much  of 
a  piece  with  it,  that  both  would  naturally  be  expressed  in 
the  very  same  words,  and  manner  of  description.  In 
the  book  of  Proverbs  *  for  instance,  Wisdom  is  intro- 
duced, as  frequenting  the  most  pubhc  places  of  resort,  and 
as  rejected  when  she  offers  herself  as  the  natural  appoint- 
ed guide  of  human  life.  How  long,  speaking  to  those  who 
are  passing  through  it,  how  long,  ye  simple  ones,  loillye  love 
Jolly,  and  the  scorners  delight  in  their  scorning,  and  fools 
hate  knowledge  ?  Turn  ye  at  my  reproof.  Behold,  I  will 
pour  out  my  spirit  upon  you,  I  will  make  know7i  my  ivords 
unto  you.  But  upon  being  neglected.  Because  I  have 
culled,  and  ye  refused,  I  have  stretched  out  my  hand,  and 
no  man  regarded;  but  ye  have  set  at  nought  all  my  counsel^ 
and  would  none  of  my  reproof :  I  also  will  laugh  at  your 
calamity,  I  will  mock  when  your  J  ear  comet  h  ;  when  your 
fear  cometh  as  desolation,  and  your  destruction  cometh  as  a 
whirlwind;  ichen  distress  and  anguish  cometh  upon  you. 
Then  shall  they  call  upon,  me,  but  I  will  not  answer  ;  they 
shall  seek  me  early,  but  they  shall  not  find  me.  This  pas- 
sage, every  one  sees,  is  poetical,  and  some  parts  of  it  are 
highly  figurative ;  but  their  meaning  is  obvious.  And 

deserts.  Reason  did,  as  it  well  niiglit,  conclude  tlmt  it  sliotild,  finally  and  upon  the 
whoh',  be  well  with  the  riplurous,  am!  ill  witli  the  wickrd  :  but  it  could  iM)t 
be  determined  njion  nny  [irinciples  of  nnson,  whether  huniiin  rnntnres  niiglit  not 
l«ive  been  npjKjinled  to  pnss  Ihronph  otlu  r  sinles  of  life  nml  Ix'inp,  Ix-fore  ihjit  distri- 
butive justice  shovilil  finally  ami  tlVrclually  tjike  place.  l{«'velalion  tenclirs  us,  tlmt 
tlie  next  stair  of  Ihinjvs  ntler  the  pnsrnt  is  appointed  for  tlie  exrculion  of  this  justice  ; 
that  it  shall  be  no  lon<:er  ilelayetl  ;  but  (In-  i)iys(»rif  af  (iml,  the  pn  at  niystny  of  hii 
^Ulre^in;;  vicr  ami  confusion  to  prevail,  shall  tlivn  ht- Jinixhni ;  nnd  lie  will  taAt  iu/im 
hit  grcnt  power  ami  will  rei^n  by  remlering  to  every  one  ncconling  tu  his  works. 

*  Chap.  i. 
F 


82 


GOVERNMENT  OF  GOD  BY  PUNISHMENTS. 


[Part!, 


the  thing  intended  is  expressed  more  literally  in  the  fol- 
lowing words;  For  that  they  hated  knowledge^  and  did  not 

choose  the  fear  of  the  Lord  therefore  shall  they  eat  of 

the  fruit  of  their  own  loay,  and  be  filled  with  their  own  de- 
vices. For  the  security  of  the  simple  shall  slay  them,  and 
the  prosperity  of  fools  shall  destroy  them.  And  the  whole 
passage  is  so  equally  applicable  to  what  w^e  experience 
in  the  present  world,  concerning  the  consequences  of 
men's  actions,  and  to  what  Religion  teaches  us  is  to  be 
expected  in  another,  that  it  may  be  questioned  which  of 
the  two  was  principally  intended. 

Indeed  when  one  has  been  recollecting  the  proper  ■ 
proofs  of  a  future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments,  no- 
thing methinks  can  give  one  so  sensible  an  apprehen- 
sion of  the  latter,  or  representation  of  it  to  the  mind;  as*- 
observing,  that  after  the  many  disregarded  checks,  ad- 
monitions, and  warnings,  which  people  meet  with  in  the ' 
ways  of  vice  and  folly  and  extravagance:  warnings  from 
their  very  nature;  from  the  examples  of  others;  from  the 
lesser  inconveniences  which  they  bring  upon  themselves;, 
from  the  instructions  of  wise  and  virtuous  men:  after 
these  have  been  long  despised,  scorned,  rMiculed:  after 
the  chief  bad  consequences,  temporal  consequences,  of' 
their  folHes,  have  been  delayed  for  a  great  while;  at 
length  they  break  in  irresistibly,  like  an  armed  force:  re- 
pentance is  too  late  to  relieve,  and  can  serve  only  to  ag- 
gravate their  distress,  the  case  is  become  desperate:  and 
poverty  and  sickness,  remorse  and  anguish,  infamy  and> 
death,  the  effects  of  their  own  doings,  overwhelm  them 
beyond  possibihty  of  remedy  or  escape.    This  is  an 
account  of  what  is  in  fact  the  general  constitution  of  na- 
ture. 

It  is  not  in  any  sort  meant,  that,  according  to  what  ap- 
pears at  present  of  the  natural  course  of  things,  men  are 
always  uniformly  punished  in  proportion  to  their  misbe- 
haviour: but  that  there  are  very  many  instances  of  mis- 
behaviour punished  in  the  several  ways  now  mentioned^ 
and  very  dreadful  instances  too;  sufficient  to  show  what 
the  laws  of  the  miiverse  may  admit;  and,  if  thoroughly 
considered,  sufficient  fully  to  answer  all  objections  against 
the  credibility  of  a  future  st?>Xe  of  punishments,  from  any 


Chip.  IJT.]  OF  THE  MORAL  GOVERNMENT  OF  GOD.  83 

imaginations,  that  the  frailty  of  our  nature  and  external 
temptations,  almost  annihilate  the  guilt  of  human  vices: 
as  well  as  objections  of  another  sort;  from  necessity; 
from  suppositions,  that  the  will  of  an  infinite  Being  can- 
not be  contradicted ;  or  that  he  must  be  incapable  of  of- 
fence and  provocation.* 

Reflections  of  this  kind  are  not  without  their  terrors 
to  serious  persons,  the  most  free  from  enthusiasm,  and 
of  the  greatest  strength  of  mind;  but  it  is  fit  things  be 
stated  and  considered  as  they  really  are.  And  there  is, 
in  the  present  age,  a  certain  fearlessness,  with  regard  to 
what  may  be  hereafter  under  the  government  of  God, 
which  nothing  but  an  universally  acknowledged  demon- 
stration on  the  side  of  atheism  can  justify;  and  which 
makes  it  quite  necessary,  that  men  be  reminded,  and  if 
possible  made  to  feel, 'that  there  is  no  sort  of  ground  for 
being  thus  presumptuous,  even  upon  the  most  sceptical 
principles.  For,  may  it  not  be  said  of  any  person  upon 
his  being  born  into  the  world,  he  may  behave  so,  as  to 
be  of  no  service  to  it,  but  by  being  made  an  example  of 
the  woeful  effect^ of  vice  and  folly?  That  he  may,  as 
any  one  may,  if  he  will,  incur  an  infamous  execution, 
from  the  hands  of  civil  justice;  or  in  some  other  course 
of  extravagance  shorten  his  days;  or  bring  upon  himself 
infamy  and  diseases  worse  than  death?  So  that  it  had 
been  better  for  him,  even  with  regard  to  the  present 
world,  that  he  had  never  been  born.  And  is  there  any 
pretence  of  reason,  for  people  to  think  themselves  secure, 
and  talk  as  if  they  had  certain  proof,  tluU,  let  them  act  as 
licentiously  as  they  will,  there  can  be  nothing  analo- 
gous to  this,  with  regard  to  a  future  and  more  general  in- 
terest, under  the  providence  and  government  of  the  same 
God? 

CHAP.  III. 

OF  THE  MORAL  GOVERNMENT  OF  GOD. 

As  the  manifold  appearances  of  design  and  of  final 
causes,  in  the  constitution  of  the  world,  prove  it  to  be  the 

*  See  Chap.  iv.  and  vi. 
F  2 


84  OF  THE  MORAL  f^ART  I. 

work  of  an  intelligent  Mind  ;  so  the  particular  final 
causes  of  pleasure  and  pain  distributed  amongst  his  crea- 
tures, prove  that  they  are  under  his  government ;  what 
may  be  called  his  natural  government  of  creatures  endued 
with  sense  and  reason.  This,  however,  implies  somewhat 
more  than  seems  usually  attended  to,  when  we  speak  of 
God's  natural  government  of  the  world.  It  implies 
government  of  the  very  same  kind  with  that  which  a 
master  exercises  over  his  servants,  or  a  civil  magistrate 
over  his  subjects.  These  latter  instances  of  final  causes, 
as  really  prove  an  intelhgent  Governor  of  the  world,  in 
the  sense  now  mentioned,  and  before*  distinctly  treated 
of ;  as  any  other  instances  of  final  causes  prove  an 
intelligent  Maker  of  it. 

But  this  alone  does  not  appear  at  first  sight  to  de- 
termine any  thing  certainly,  concerning  the  moral  cha- 
racter of  the  Author  of  Nature,  considered  in  this  relation 
of  governor ;  does  not  ascertain  his  government  to  be 
moral,  or  prove  that  he  is  the  righteous  judge  of  the  world. 
Moral  government  consists,  not  barely  in  rewarding  and 
punishing  men  for  their  actions,  whicl^the  most  tyranni- 
cal person  may  do :  but  in  rewarding  the  righteous,  and 
punishing  the  wricked:  in  rendering  to  men  according 
to  their  actions,  considered  as  good  or  evil.  And  the 
perfection  of  moral  government  consists  in  doing  this, 
with  regard  to  all  intelligent  creatures,  in  an  exact 
proportion  to  their  personal  merits  or  demerits. 

Some  men  seem  to  think  the  only  character  of  the 
Author  of  Nature  to  be  that  of  simple  absolute  benevo- 
lence. This,  considered  as  a  principle  of  action  and 
mfinite  in  degree,  is  a  disposition  to  produce  the  greatest 
possible  happiness,  without  regard  to  persons'  behaviour, 
otherwise  than  a«  such  regard  would  produce  higher  de- 
grees of  it.  And  supposing  this  to  be  the  only  character 
of  God,  veracity  and  justice  in  him  would  be  nothing 
but  benevolence  conducted  by  wisdom.  Now  surelv  this 
ought  not  to  be  asserted,  unless  it  can  be  proved  ;  for  we 
should  speak  with  cautious  reverence  upon  such  a  subject. 
And  whether  it  can  be  proved  or  no,  is  not  the  thing 
here  to  be  inquired  into  ;  but  whether  in  the  constitution 

*  Clinp.  ii. 


Chap.  III.]  GOVERNMENT  OF  GOD.  85 

and  conduct  of  the  world,  a  righteous  government  be 
not  discernibly  planned  out:  which  necessarily  implies  a 
righteous  governor.  There  may  possibly  be  in  the  crea- 
'  don  beings,  to  whom  the  Author  of  Nature  manifests 
himself  under  this  most  amiable  of  all  characters,  this 
of  infinite  absolute  benevolence;  for  it  is  the  most  ami- 
able, supposing  it  not,  as  perhaps  it  is  not,  incompatible 
with  justice;  but  he  manifests  himself  to  us  under  the 
character  of  a  righteous  governor.  He  may,  consistently 
with  this,  be  simply  and  absolutely  benevolent,  in  the 
sense  now  explained:  but  he  is  (for  he  has  given  us  a 
proof  in  the  constitution  and  conduct  of  the  world  that  he 
is)  a  governor  over  servants,  as  he  rewards  and  punishes 
us  for  our  actions.  And  in  the  constitution  and  conduct 
of  it,  he  may  also  have  given,  besides  the  reason  of  the 
thing,  and  the  natural  presages  of  conscience,  clear  and 
distinct  intimations,  that  his  government  is  righteous  or 
moral:  clear  to  such  as  think  the  nature  of  it  deserving 
their  attention ;  and  yet  not  to  every  careless  person,  who 
casts  a  transient  reflection  upon  the  subject.* 

But  it  is  particularly  to  be  observed,  that  the  divine 
government,  which  we  experience  ourselves  under  in  the 
present  state,  taken  alone,  is  allowed  not  to  be  the  perfec- 
tion of  moral  government.  And  yet  this  by  no  means 
hinders,  but  that  there  may  be  somewhat,  be  it  more  or 
less,  truly  moral  in  it.  A  righteous  government  may 
plainly  appear  to  be  carried  on  to  some  degree:  enough 
to  give  us  the  apprehension  that  it  shall  be  completed,  or 
carried  on  to  that  degree  of  perfection  which  religion 
teaches  us  it  shall;  but  which  cannot  appear,  till  much 
more  of  the  divine  administration  be  seen,  than  can  in  the 
present  life.  And  the  design  of  this  Chapter  is  to  incpiire 
how  far  this  is  the  case:  how  far,  over  and  above  the  moral 
nature!  which  God  has  given  us,  and  our  natural  notion 

♦  Tlu-  oltjrcLions  apiinst  n  ligidn,  from  tho  rvidt  ncr  of  it  not  hvlu^  nnivrrsnl,  nor 
■O  stn»iig  as  luiglit  |'«)ssil)ly  have  l)r«  ii,  may  be  ur^»  il  against  iialunil  n  ligioii,  as  \v»  11 
as  agTiiiist  rrvfali  il.  Ami  tli«  r»  fore  tlit-  coiisidrnilioii  of  llu  in  l)rl<iiips  t<»  llif  fii-st 
part  of  lliis  Tn  atis<',  as  well  as  tin*  st  coi.d.  But  as  tlirsr  ohjrciioiis  arr  fly  urg»  d 
ugaiiisl  revraU'il  n  ligion,  I  flioosr  to  coiisi»lt  r  tln  iii  in  tin-  s«  roiid  part.  And  llie 
answiT  H)  tlu  m  tlirn-,  Cli.  vi.,  as  urp«  (l  against  Clirisliimity,  Im  inp  almost  t  qmilly 
niiplioil)l«'  to  ihrm  iis  uii,M-d  npiiinst  llu-  K»  ligion  of  Naliire ;  to  avoid  rfpt'lilion,  the 
riiult  r  is  r.  t".  i  r.  .i  to  lhat  cliapu-r. 

f  Dissrrlaiion  II. 


86  OF  THE  MORAL  [Part  I, 

of  him  as  rigliteoiTS  governor  of  those  his  creatures,  to 
whom  he  has  given  this  natm-e  ;*  I  say  how  far  besides 
this,  the  principles  and  beginnings  of  a  moral  government 
over  the  world  may  be  discerned,  notwithstanding  and  - 
amidst  all  the  confusion  and  disorder  of  it. 

Now  one  might  mention  here,  what  has  been  often 
urged  with  great  force,  that,  in  general,  less  uneasiness 
and  more  satisfaction,  are  the  natural  consequencest  of 
a  virtuous  than  of  a  vicious  course  of  life,  in  the  present 
state,  as  an  instance  of  a  moral  government  established 
in  nature  ;  an  instance  of  it  collected  from  experience 
and  present  matter  of  fact.  But  it  must  be  owned  a 
thing  of  difficulty  to  w^eigh  and  balance  pleasures  and 
uneasinesses,  each  amongst  themselves,  and  also  against 
each  other,  so  as  to  make  an  estimate  with  any  exactness, 
of  the  overplus  of  happiness  on  the  side  of  virtue.  And  it 
is  not  impossible,  that,  amidst  the  infinite  disorders  of 
the  world,  there  may  be  exceptions  to  the  happiness  of 
virtue  ;  even  with  regard  to  those  persons,  whose  course 
of  life  from  their  youth  up  has  been  blameless:  and 
more  with  regard  to  those  who  have  gone  on  for  some 
time  in  the  ways  of  vice,  and  have  afterwards  reformed. 
For  suppose  an  instance  of  the  latter  case  ;  a  person  with 
his  passions  inflamed,  his  natural  faculty  of  self-govern- 
ment impaired  by  habits  of  indulgence,  and  with  all  his 
vices  about  him,  like  so  many  harpies,  craving  for  their 
accustomed  gratification  :  who  can  say  how  long  it  might 
be,  before  such  a  person  would  find  more  satisfaction 
in  the  reasonableness  and  present  good  consequences 
of  virtue,  than  difficulties  and  self-denial  in  the  restraints 
of  it?  Experience  also  shows,  that  men  can  to  a  great 
degree,  get  over  their  sense  of  shame,  so  as  that  by  pro- 
fessing themselves  to  be  w^ithout  principle,  and  avow- 
ing even  direct  villany,  they  can  support  themselves 
against  the  infamy  of  it.  But  as  the  ill  actions  of  any 
one  will  probably  be  more  talked  of,  and  oftener  thrown 
in  his  way,  upon  his  reformation ;  so  the  infamy  of  them 
will  be  much  more  felt,  after  the  natural  sense  of  virtue 
and  of  honour  is  recovered.    Uneasinesses  of  this  kind 


*  rim  p.  vi. 

f  Ste  Lord  Shafusbury's  Inquiry  concerning  Virtue,  Part  H, 


Chap.  TIL]  GOVERNMENT  OF  GOD.  87 

ought  indeed  to  be  uut  to  the  account  of  former  vices :  yet  it 
will  be  said  they  are  in  part  the  consequences  of  reforma- 
tion. Still  I  am  far  from  allowing  it  doubttul,  whether 
virtue,  upon  the  w^hole,  be  happier  than  vice  in  the  pre- 
sent world.  But  if  it  w^ere,  yet  the  beginnings  of  a 
righteous  administration  may,  beyond  all  question,  be 
found  in  nature,  if  we  will  attentively  inquire  after  them. 
And, 

I.  In  whatever  manner  the  notion  of  God's  moral 
government  over  the  world  might  be  treated,  if  it  did 
not  appear,  whether  he  were  in  a  proper  sense  our 
governor  at  all;  yet  when  it  iscertam  matter  of  experience, 
that  he  does  manifest  himself  to  us  under  the  character  of 
a  governor  in  the  sense  explained  ;*  it  must  deserve  to 
be  considered,  whether  there  be  not  reason  to  apprehend, 
that  he  may  be  a  righteous  or  moral  governor.  Since 
it  appears  to  be  fact,  that  God  does  govern  mankind 
by  the  method  of  rewards  and  punishments,  according 
to  some  settled  rules  of  distribution;  it  is  surely  a  question 
to  be  asked,  what  presumption  is  there  against  his  fi- 
nally rewarding  and  punishing  them  according  to  this 
particular  rule,  namely,  as  they  act  reasonably,  or  un- 
reasonably, virtuously  or  viciously?  since  rendering  men 
happy  or  miserable  by  this  rule,  certainly  falls  in,  much 
more  falls  in,  with  our  natural  apprehensions  and  sense  of 
things,  than  doing  so  by  any  other  rule  whatever ;  since 
rewarding  and  punishing  actions  by  any  other  rule,  would 
appear  much  harder  to  be  accounted  for,  by  minds  formed 
as  he  has  formed  ours.  Be  the  evidence  of  religion  then 
more  or  less  clear,  the  expectation  which  it  raises  in  us, 
that  the  righteous  shall,  upon  the  whole,  be  happy,  and 
the  wicked  miserable,  cannot  however  possibly  be  con- 
sidered as  absurd  or  chimerical  ;  because  it  is  no  more 
than  an  expectation,  that  a  method  of  government  aln  ady 
begun,  shall  be  carried  on,  the  method  of  rewarding  and 
punishing  actions ;  and  shall  be  carried  on  by  a  par- 
ticular rule,  which  miavoidably  appears  to  us  at  iirst 
sif^ht  more  natural  than  any  other,  tlic  rule  whieh  wo 
call  distributive  justice.  Nor, 

II.  Ought  it  to  be  entirely  passed  over,  that  tranquillity 


*  Chap.  ii. 


88  OF  THE  MORAL  [Part  I. 

satisfaction,  and  external  advantages,  being  the  natural 
consequences  of  prudent  management  of  ourselves,  and 
our  affairs;  and  rashness,  profligate  negligence,  and  wil- 
ful folly,  bringing  after  them  many  inconveniences  and 
suff"erings;  these  afford  instances  of  a  right  constitution  of 
nature :  as  the  correction  of  children,  for  their  own  sakes, 
and  by  way  of  example,  when  they  run  into  danger  or 
hurt  themselves,  is  a  part  of  right  education  ?  And  thus, 
that  God  governs  the  world  by  general  fixed  laws,  that 
he  has  endued  us  with  capacities  of  reflecting  upon  this 
constitution  of  things,  and  foreseeing  the  good  and  bad 
consequences  of  our  behaviour;  plainly  implies  some  sort 
of  moral  government;  since  from  such  a  constitution  of 
things  it  cannot  but  follow,  that  prudence  and  impru- 
dence, which  are  of  the  nature  of  virtue  and  vice,*  must 
be,  as  they  are,  respectively  rewarded  and  punished. 

III.  From  the  natural  course  of  things,  vicious  actions 
are,  to  a  great  degree,  actually  punished  as  mischievous 
to  society ;  and  besides  punishment  actually  inflicted  upon 
this  account,  there  is  also  the  fear  and  apprehension  of 
it  in  those  persons,  whose  crimes  have  rendered  them 
obnoxious  to  it,  in  case  of  a  discovery;  this  state  of  fear 
bein?  itself  often  a  very  considerable  punishment.  The 
natural  fear  and  apprehension  of  it  too,  which  restrains 
froQi  such  crimes,  is  a  declaration  of  nature  against  them. 
It  is  necessary  to  the  very  being  of  society,  that  vices,- 
destructive  of  it,  should  be  punished  as  being  so;  the  vices 
of  falsehood,  injustice,  cruelty :  which  punishment  there- 
fore is  as  natural  as  society;  and  so  is  an  instance  of  a 
kind  of  moral  government,  naturally  established,  and  ac- 
tually taking  place.  And,  since  the  certain  natural  course 
of  things  is  the  conduct  of  Providence  or  the  government 
of  God,  though  carried  on  by  the  instrumentality  of  men; 
the  observation  here  made  amounts  to  this,  that  mankind 
find  themselves  placed  by  him  in  such  circumstances, 
as  that  they  are  unavoidably  accountable  for  their  beha- 
viour, and  are  often  punished,  and  sometimes  rewarded, 
under  his  government,  in  the  view  of  their  being  mis- 
chievous, or  eminently  benefici-d  to  society. 

If  it  be  objected  that  good  actions  and  such  as  are  bene- 

»  So  Dissert.  I!. 


Chap.  III.]  GOVERNMENT  OF  GOD.  89 

ficial  to  society,  are  often  punished,  as  in  the  case  of  per- 
secution and  in  other  cases ;  and  that  ill  and  mischievous 
actions  are  often  rewarded:  it  may  be  answered  dis- 
tinctly; first,  that  this  is  in  no  sort  necessary,  and  conse- 
quently not  natural,  in  the  sense  in  which  it  is  necessary, 
and  therefore  natural,  that  ill  or  mischievous  actions 
should  be  punished:  and  in  the  next  place,  that  good 
actions  are  never  punished,  considered  as  beneficial  to 
society,  nor  ill  actions  rewarded,  under  the  view  of  their 
being  hurtful  to  it.  So  that  it  stands  good,  without  any 
thing  on  the  side  of  vice  to  be  set  over  against  it,  that 
the  Author  of  Nature  has  as  truly  directed,  that  vicious 
actions,  considered  as  mischievous  to  society,  should  be 
punished,  and  put  mankind  under  a  necessity  of  thus 
punishing  them ;  as  he  has  directed  and  necessitated  us 
to  preserve  our  lives  by  food. 

IV.  In  the  natural  course  of  things,  virtue  as  such  is 
actually  rewarded,  and  vice  as  such  punished:  which 
seems  to  afford  an  instance  or  example,  not  only  of 
government,  but  of  moral  government  begun  and  esta- 
blished; moral  in  the  strictest  sense;  though  not  in  that 
perfection  of  degree,  which  religion  teaches  us  to  expect. 
In  order  to  see  this  more  clearly,  we  must  distinguish 
between  actions  themselves,  and  that  quality  ascribed  to 
them,  whicli  we  call  virtuous  or  vicious.  The  gratifica- 
tion itself  of  every  natural  passion,  must  be  attended 
with  deligiit:  and  acquisitions  of  fortune,  however  made, 
are  acquisitions  of  the  means  or  materials  of  enjoyment. 
An  action  tlien,  by  which  any  natural  passion  is  gratified 
or  fortune  acquired,  procures  delight  or  advantage;  ab- 
stracted from  all  consideration  of  the  morality  of  such 
action.  Consequently,  the  pleasure  or  advantage  in  this 
case,  is  gained  by  the  action  itself,  not  by  the  morality, 
the  virtuousness  or  viciousness  of  it;  though  it  be,  per- 
haps, virtuous  or  vicious.  Thus,  to  say  such  an  action  or 
course  of  behaviour,  procured  such  pleasure  or  advan- 
tage, or  brought  on  such  inconvenience  and  pain,  is  quite 
a  different  thing  from  saying,  that  such  good  or  bad 
effect  was  owing  to  the  virtue  or  vice  of  such  action  or 
behaviour.  In  one  case,  an  action  abstracted  from  all 
moral  consideration,  produced  its  cfifect:  in  the  other  case, 


90 


OF  THE  MORAL 


[Part  I. 


lor  it  will  appear  that  there  are  such  cases,  the  morality 
of  the  action  under  a  moral  consideration,  i,  e.  the  vir- 
tuousness  or  viciousness  of  it,  produced  the  effect.  Now 
I  say  virtue  as  such,  naturally  procures  considerable  ad- 
vantages to  the  virtuous,  and  vice  as  such,  naturally  oc- 
casions great  inconvenience  and  even  misery  to  the 
I'icious,  in  very  many  instances.  The  immediate  effects 
of  virtue  and  vice  upon  the  mind  and  temper,  are  to 
be  mentioned  as  instances  of  it.  Vice  as  such  is  na- 
turally attended  with  some  sort  of  uneasiness,  and,  not 
uncommonly,  with  great  disturbance  and  apprehension. 
That  inward  feeling,  Avhich,  respecting  lesser  matters, 
and  in  familiar  speech,  we  call  being  vexed  with  oneself, 
and  in  matters  of  importance  and  in  more  serious  lan- 
guage, remorse;  is  an  uneasiness  naturally  arising  from 
an  action  of  a  man's  own,  reflected  upon  by  himself  as 
wrong,  unreasonable,  faulty,  i.  e.  vicious  in  greater  or 
less  degrees:  and  this  manifestly  is  a  different  feeling 
from  that  uneasiness,  which  arises  from  a  sense  of  mere 
loss  or  harm.    What  is  more  common,  than  to  hear  a 

man  lam.entingan  accident  or  event,  and  adding  but 

however  he  has  the  satisfaction  that  he  cannot  blame  him- 
self for  it;  or  on  the  contrary,  that  he  has  the  uneasiness 
of  being  sensible  it  was  his  own  doing P  Thus  also  the 
disturbance  and  fear,  which  often  follow  upon  a  ni^an's 
having  done  an  injury,  arise  from  a  sense  of  his  being 
blame-worthy ;  otherwise  there  would,  in  many  cases,  be 
no  ground  of  disturbance,  nor  any  reason  to  fear  resent- 
ment or  shame.  On  the  other  hand,  inward  security  and 
peace,  and  a  mind  open  to  the  several  gratifications  of 
life,  are  the  natural  attendants  of  innocence  and  virtue. 
To  which  must  be  added  the  complacency,  satisfaction, 
and  even  joy  of  heart,  which  accompany  the  exercise, 
the  real  exercise  of  gratitude,  friendship,  benevolence. 

And  here,  I  think,  ought  to  be  mentioned,  the  fears  ol 
future  punishment,  and  peaceful  hopes  of  abetter  life,  in 
those  who  fully  believe,  or  have  any  serious  apprehension, 
of  religion :  because  these  hopes  and  fears  are  present  un- 
easiness and  satisfaction  to  the  mind  ;  and  cannot  be  got 
rid  of  by  great  part  of  the  world,  even  by  men  who  have 
thought  most  thoroughly  upon  that  subject  of  religion. 


Chap.  III.] 


GOVERNMENT  OF  GOD. 


91 


And  no  one  can  say,  liow  considerable  tliis  uneasiness 
and  satisfaction  may  be,  or  what  upon  the  \\hoie  it  may 
amount  to. 

In  the  next  place  comes  in  the  consideration,  that  all 
honest  and  good  men  are  disposed  to  befriend  honest 
good  men  as  such,  and  to  discountenance  the  vicious  as 
such,  and  do  so  in  some  degree;  indeed  in  a  considera- 
ble degree:  from  which  favour  and  discouragement  can- 
not but  arise  considerable  advantage  and  inconvenience. 
And  though  the  generality  of  the  world  have  little  regard 
to  the  morality  of  their  own  actions,  and  may  be  sup- 
posed to  have  less  to  that  of  others,  wlien  they  them- 
selves are  not  concerned ;  yet  let  any  one  be  known  to 
be  a  man  of  virtue,  some  how  or  other  he  will  be  favour- 
ed and  good  oftices  will  be  done  him,  from  regard  to  his 
character,  without  remote  views,  occasionally,  and.  in 
some  low  degree,  I  think,  by  the  generality  of  the  world, 
as  it  happens  to  come  in  their  way.  Public  honours  too 
and  advantages  are  the  natural  consequences,  are  some- 
times at  least  the  consequences  in  fact,  of  virtuous  ac- 
tions; of  eminent  justice,  fidelity,  charity,  love  to  our 
country,  considered  in  the  view  of  being  virtuous.  And 
sometimes  even  death  itself,  often  infamy  and  external  in- 
conveniences, are  the  public  consequences  of  vice  as  vice. 
For  instance,  the  sense  which  mankind  have  of  tyranny, 
injustice,  oppression,  additional  to  the  mere  feeling  or 
fear  of  misery,  has  doubtless  been  instrumental  in  bring- 
ing about  revolutions,  which  make  a  figure  even  in  the 
history  of  the  world.  For  it  is  plain,  men  resent  inju- 
ries as  implying  faultiness,  and  retaliate,  not  merely  under 
the  notion  of  having  received  harm,  but  of  having  re- 
ceived wrong;  and  they  have  this  resentment  in  behalf 
of  others,  as  well  as  of  thcnsclves.  So  likewise  even 
the  generality  are,  in  some  degree,  grateful  and  disposed 
to  return  good  offices,  not  merely  ])ecause  such  a  one 
lias  been  the  occasion  of  good  to  them,  but  under  the 
view,  that  such  good  offices  im])lied  kind  intention  and 
good  desert  in  the  doer.  To  all  this  may  be  added  two 
or  three  particular  things,  which  many  persons  will  think 
frivolous;  but  to  me  nothing  appears  so,  which  at  all 
comes  in  towards  determining  a  (juestion  of  such  iniport- 


I 


92 


OF  THE  MORAL 


[Part  I. 


ance,  as,  whether  there  be,  or  be  not,  a  moral  institution 
of  government,  in  the  strictest  sense  moral,  visibly  esta- 
blished and  begun  in  nature.  The  particular  things  are 
these:  That  in  domestic  government,  which  is  doubtless 
natural,  children  and  others  also  are  very  generally  pun- 
ished for  falsehood  and  injustice  and  ill-behaviour,  as 
such,  and  rewarded  for  the  contrary:  which  are  instances 
where  veracity  and  justice  and  right  behaviour,  as  such^ 
are  naturally  enforced  by  rewards  and  pimishments,  whe- 
ther more  or  less  considerable  in  degree:  that,  though 
civil  government  be  supposed  to  take  cognizance  of  ac- 
tions in  no  other  view  than  as  prejudicial  to  society,  with- 
out respect  to  the  immorality  of  them  ;  yet  as  such  ac- 
tions are  immoral,  so  the  sense  which  men  have  of  the 
immorality  of  them,  very  greatly  contributes,  in  different 
ways,  to  bring  offenders  to  justice:  and  that  entire  ab- 
sence of  all  crime  and  guilt  in  the  moral  sense,  when 
plainly  appearing,  will  almost  of  course  procure,  and  cir- 
cumstances of  aggravated  guilt  prevent,  a  remission  of 
the  penalties  annexed  to  civil  crimes,  in  many  cases, 
though  by  no  means  in  all. 

Upon  the  whole  then,  besides  the  good  and  bad  effects 
of  virtue  and  vice  upon  men's  own  miinds,  the  course  of 
the  world  does,  in  some  measure,  turn  upon  the  appro- 
bation and  disapprobation  of  them  as  such  in  others. 
The  sense  of  well  and  ill  doing,  the  presages  of  con- 
science, the  love  of  good  characters  and  dislike  of  bad 
ones,  honour,  shame,  resentment,  gratitude;  all  these^ 
considered  in  themselves,  and  in  their  effects,  do  afford 
manifest  real  instances  of  virtue  as  such  naturally  fa- 
voured, and  of  vice  as  such  discountenanced,  more  or 
less,  in  the  daily  course  of  human  life;  in  every  age,  in 
every  relation,  in  every  general  circumstance  of  it. 
That  God  has  given  us  amoral  nature,*  may  most  justly 
be  urged  as  a  proof  of  our  being  under  his  moral  go- 
vernment: but  that  he  has  placed  us  in  a  condition,  which 
gives  this  nature,  as  one  may  speak,  scope  to  operate,  and 
in  which  it  does  unavoidably  operate;  i.  e.  influence  man- 
kind to  act,  so  as  thus  to  favour  and  reward  virtue,  and 
discountenance  and  punish  vice ;  this  is  not  the  same,  but 

*See  Dissert.  II. 


Chap.  III.] 


GOVERNMENT  OF  GOD. 


93 


a  further,  additional  proof  of  his  moral  government:  for 
it  is  an  instance  of  it.  The  first  is  a  proof,  that  he  will 
finally  favour  and  support  virtue  efiectuaily:  the  second 
is  an  example  of  his  favouring  and  supporting  it  at  pre- 
sent, in  some  degree. 

If  a  more  distinct  inquiry  be  m.ade,  whence  it  arises, 
that  virtue  as  such  is  often  rewarded,  and  vice  as  such 
is  punished,  and  this  rule  never  inverted:  it  will  be 
found  to  proceed,  in  part,  immediately  from  the  moral 
nature  itself,  which  God  has  given  us;  and  also  in  part, 
from  his  having  given  us,  together  with  this  nature,  so 
great  a  power  over  each  other's  happiness  and  misery. 
For,  first,  it  is  certain,  that  peace  and  delight,  in  some 
degree  and  upon  some  occasions,  is  the  necessary  and 
present  eff'ect  of  virtuous  practice;  an  effect  arising 
immediately  from  that  constitution  of  our  nature.  We 
are  so  made,  that  well-doing  as  such  gives  us  satisfaction, 
at  least,  in  some  instances ;  ill-doing  as  such,  in  none. 
And,  secondly,  from  our  moral  nature,  joined  with  God's 
having  pat  our  happiness  and  misery  in  many  respects 
in  each  other  s  power,  it  cannot  but  be,  that  vice  as  such, 
some  kinds  and  instances  of  it  at  least,  will  be  infamous, 
and  men  will  be  disposed  to  punish  it  as  in  itself  detest- 
able; and  the  villain  will  by  no  means  be  able  always  to 
avoid  feeling  that  infamy,  any  more  than  he  will  be  able 
to  escape  this  further  punishment,  which  mankind  will 
be  disposed  to  inflict  upon  him,  under  the  notion  of  his 
deserving  it.  But  there  can  be  nothing  on  the  side  of 
vice,  to  answer  this ;  because  there  is  nothing  in  the  hu- 
man mind  contradictory,  as  the  logicians  speak,  to  vir- 
tue. For  virtue  consists  in  a  regard  to  what  is  right 
and  reasonable,  as  being  so  ;  in  a  regard  to  veracity,  jus- 
tice, charity,  in  themselves:  and  there  is  surely  no  such 
thing,  as  a  like  natural  regard  to  falsehood,  injustice, 
cruelty.  If  it  be  thought,  that  there  are  instances  of  an 
approbation  of  vice,  as  such,  in  itself,  and  for  its  own 
sak(!  (though  it  does  not  appear  to  me,  that  there  is  any 
such  thing  at  all;  but  supposing  there  be),  it  is  evident- 
ly monstrous:  as  much  so,  as  the  most  acknowledged 
perversion  of  any  passion  whatever.  Such  instances  of 
perversion  then  being  left  out,  as  merely  imaginary,  or. 


94 


OF  THE  MORAL 


[Part  I. 


however,  unnatural ;  it  must  follow,  from  the  frame  of  our 
nature,  and  from  our  condition,  in  the  respects  now  de- 
scribed, that  vice  cannot  at  all  be,  and  virtue  cannot  but 
be,  favoured  as  such  by  others,  upon  some  occasions, 
and  happy  in  itself,  in  some  degree.  For  what  is  here 
insisted  upon,  is  not  the  degree  in  which  virtue  and  vice 
are  thus  distinguished,  but  only  the  thing  itself,  that 
they  are  so  in  some  degree;  though  the  whole  good  and 
bad  effect  of  virtue  and  vice  as  such,  is  not  inconsidera- 
ble in  degree.  But  that  they  must  be  thus  distinguished 
in  some  degree,  is  in  a  manner  necessary:  it  is  matter  of 
fact  of  daily  experience,  even  in  the  greatest  confusion 
of  human  affairs. 

It  is  not  pretended  but  that,  in  the  natural  course  of 
things,  happiness  and  misery  appear  to  be  distributed  by 
other  rules,  than  only  the  personal  merit  and  demerit  of 
characters.  They  may  sometimes  be  distributed  by  way 
of  mere  discipline.  There  may  be  the  wisest  and  best 
reasons,  why  the  world  should  be  governed  by  general 
laws,  from  whence  such  promiscuous  distribution  perhaps 
must  follow;  and  also  why  our  happiness  and  misery 
should  be  put  in  each  other  s  power,  in  the  degree  which 
they  are.  And  these  things,  as  in  general  they  contri- 
bute  to  the  rewarding  virtue  and  punishing  vice,  as  such  : 
so  they  often  contribute  also,  not  to  the  inversion  of  this, 
which  is  impossible ;  but  to  the  rendering  persons  pros- 
perous, though  wicked  ;  afflicted,  though  righteous ;  and, 
which  is  worse,  to  the  rewarding  some  actions y  though  vi- 
cious, and  punishing  other  actions^  though  virtuous.  But 
all  this  cannot  drown  the  voice  of  Nature  in  the  conduct 
of  Providence,  plainly  declaring  itself  for  virtue,  by  way 
of  distinction  from  vice,  and  preference  to  it.  For  our 
being  so  constituted  as  that  virtue  and  vice  are  thus  na- 
turally favoured  and  discountenanced,  rewarded  and  pun- 
ished, respectively  as  such,  is  an  intuitive  proof  of  the  in- 
tent of  Nature,  that  it  should  be  so  ;  otherwise  the  con- 
stitution of  our  mind,  from  which  it  thus  immediately  and 
directly  proceeds,  would  be  absui'd.  But  it  cannot  be 
said,  because  virtuous  actions  are  sometimes  punished, 
and  vicious  actions  rewarded,  that  Nature  intended  it. 
For,  though  this  great  disorder  is  brought  about,  as  all 


Chap.  HI  ]  GOVERNMENT  OF  GOD.  95 

actions  are  done,  by  means  of  some  natural  passion  ;  vet 
this  may  he,  as  it  undoubtedly  is,  brought  about  by  the 
perversion  of  such  passion,  implanted  in  us  for  other, 
and  those  very  good  purposes.  And  indeed  these  other 
and  good  purposes,  even  of  every  passion,  maybe  clear- 
ly seen. 

We  have  then  a  declaration,  in  some  degree  of  pre- 
sent effect,  from  Him  who  is  supreme  in  Nature,  which 
side  he  is  of,  or  what  part  he  takes  ;  a  declaration  for 
virtue,  and  against  vice.  So  far  therefore  as  a  man  is 
true  to  virtue,  to  veracity  and  justice,  to  equity  and  cha- 
rity, and  the  right  of  the  case,  in  whatever  he  is  concern- 
ed ;  so  far  he  is  on  the  side  of  the  divine  administration, 
and  co-operates  with  it:  and  from  hence,  to  such  a  man, 
arises  naturally  a  secret  satisfaction  and  sense  of  secu- 
rity, and  implicit  hope  of  somewhat  further.  And, 

V.  This  hope  is  confirmed  by  the  necessary  tenden- 
cies of  virtue,  which,  though  not  of  present  effect,  yet 
are  at  present  discernible  in  nature ;  and  so  afford  an  in- 
stance of  somewhat  moral  in  the  essential  constitution  of 
it.  There  is,  in  the  nature  of  things,  a  tendency  in  vir- 
tue and  vice  to  produce  the  good  and  bad  effects  now 
mentioned,  in  a  greater  degree  than  they  do  in  fact  pro- 
duce them.  For  instance;  good  and  bad  men  would  be 
much  more  rewarded  and  punished  as  such,  were  it  not, 
that  justice  is  often  artificially  eluded,  that  characters  are 
not  known,  and  many,  who  would  thus  favour  virtue  and 
discourage  vice,  are  hindered  from  doing  so  by  acciden- 
tal causes.  These  tende  ncies  of  virtue  and  vice  are  ob- 
vious with  regard  to  individuals.  But  it  may  require 
more  particidarly  to  be  considered,  that  power  in  a  socie- 
ty, by  being  under  the  direction  of  virtue,  naturally 
increases,  and  has  a  necessary  tendency  to  prevail  over 
opposite  power,  not  under  the  direction  of  it;  in  like 
manner,  as  power,  by  being  under  the  direction  of  reason, 
increases,  and  has  a  tendency  to  prevail  over  brute  force. 
There  are  several  brute  creatures  of  equal,  and  several 
of  superior  strength,  to  that  of  men;  and  possibly  the 
sum  of  the  whole  strength  of  brutes  may  be  greater  than 
that  of  mankind;  but  reason  gives  us  the  advantage  and 
superiority  over  them  ;  and  thus  man  is  the  acknowledged 


96  OF  THE  MORAL  [Part!. 

governing  animal  upon  the  earth.  Nor  is  this  supe- 
riority considered  by  any  as  accidental ;  but  as  what 
reason  has  a  tendency,  in  the  nature  of  the  thing,  to  ob- 
tain. And  yet  perhaps  difficulties  may  be  raised  about 
the  meaning,  as  well  as  the  truth,  of  the  assertion,  that 
virtue  has  the  like  tendency. 

To  obviate  these  difficulties,  let  us  see  more  distinct- 
ly, how  the  case  stands  with  regard  to  reason  ;  which  is 
so  readily  acknowledged  to  have  this  advantageous  tend- 
ency. Suppose  then  two  or  three  men,  of  the  best  and 
most  improved  understanding,  in  a  desolate  open  plain, 
attacked  by  ten  times  the  number  of  beasts  of  prey : 
would  their  reason  secure  them  the  victory  in  this  une- 
qual combat  .^^  Power  then,  though  joined  with  reason, 
and  under  its  direction,  cannot  be  expected  to  prevail 
over  opposite  power,  though  merely  brutal,  unless  the 
one  bears  some  proportion  to  the  other.  Again  :  put 
the  imaginary  case,  that  rational  and  irrational  creatures 
were  of  like  external  shape  and  manner :  it  is  certain,  be- 
fore there  were  opportunities  for  tlie  first  to  distinguish 
each  other,  to  separate  from  their  adversaries,  and  to 
form  a  union  among  themselves,  they  might  be  upon  a 
level,  or  in  several  respects  upon  great  disadvantage; 
though  united  they  might  be  vastly  superior ;  since  union 
is  of  such  efficacy,  that  ten  men  united,  might  be  able  to 
accomphsh,  what  ten  thousand  of  the  same  natural 
strength  and  understanding  wholly  ununited,  could  not. 
In  this  case  then,  brute  force  might  more  than  maintain 
its  ground  against  reason,  for  want  of  union  among  the 
rational  creatures.  Or  suppose  a  number  of  men  to 
land  upon  an  island  inhabited  only  by  wild  beasts  ;  a  num- 
ber of  men  who,  by  the  regulations  of  civil  government, 
the  inventions  of  art,  and  the  experience  of  some  years, 
could  they  be  preserved  so  long,  would  be  really  suffi- 
cient to  subdue  the  wild  beasts,  and  to  preserve  themselves 
in  security  from  them:  yet  a  conjuncture  of  accidents 
might  give  such  advantage  to  the  irrational  animals  as 
that  they  might  at  once  overpower,  and  even  extirpate, 
the  whole  species  of  rational  ones.  Length  of  time  then, 
proper  scope  and  opportunities,  for  reason  to  exert  it- 
self, may  be  absolutely  necessary  to  its  prevailing  ovci 


o 


€est.  TII.J  GOVERNMENT  OF  GOD.  97 

brute  force.  Further  still:  tliere  are  many  instances  of 
brutes  succeeding  in  attempts,  which  they  could  not  have 
undertaken,  had  not  their  irrational  nature  rendered  them 
incapable  of  foreseeing  the  danger  of  such  auempt,  or 
the  fury  of  passion  hindered  their  attending  to  it:  and 
there  are  instances  of  reason  and  real  prudence  prevent- 
ing men's  undertaking  what,  it  hath  appeared  aftervrards, 
they  might  have  succeeded  in  by  a  lucky  rashness.  And 
in  certain  conjimctures,  ignorance  and  folly,  weakness 
and  discord,  may  have  their  advantages.  So  that  ration- 
al animals  have  not  necessarily  the  superiority  over  irra- 
tional ones  ;  but,  how  improbable  soever  it  may  be,  it  is 
evidently  possible,  that  in  some  globes  the  latter  may 
be  superior.  And  were  the  former  wholly  at  variance 
and  disunited,  by  false  self-interest  and  envy,  by  treach- 
ery  and  injustice,  and  consequent  rage  and  malice  against 
each  other,  whilst  the  latter  were  firmly  united  among 
themselves  by  instinct ;  this  might  greatly  contribute  to 
the  introducing  such  an  inverted  order  of  tilings.  For 
every  one  would  consider  it  as  inverted  :  since  reason 
has,  in  the  nature  of  it,  a  tendency  to  prevail  over  brute 
force  ;  notwithstanding  the  possibility  it  may  not  prevail, 
and  the  necessity,  which  there  is,  of  many  concurring  cir- 
cumstances to  render  it  prevalent. 

Now  I  say,  virtue  in  a  society  has  a  like  tendency  to 
procure  superiority  and  additional  power:  whether  this 
power  be  considered  as  the  means  of  security  from  op- 
posite power,  or  of  obtaining  other  advantages.  And  it 
has  this  tendency,  by  rendering  pubhc  good,  an  object 
and  end,  to  every  member  of  the  society;  by  putting 
every  one  upon  consideration  and  diligence,  recollection 
and  self-government,  both  in  order  to  see  what  is  the 
most  effectual  method,  and  also  in  order  to  perform  Uieir 
proper  part,  for  obtaining  and  preserving  it ;  by  uniting 
a  society  within  itself,  and  so  increasing  its  strength;  and, 
vhich  is  particularly  to  be  mentioned,  uniting  it  by 
means  of  veracity  and  justice.  For  as  these  last  are 
principal  bonds  of  union,  so  benevolence  or  public  spi- 
rit, undirected,  unrestrained  by  tliem,  is,  nobody  knows 
what. 

And  suppose  the  invisible  world,  and  the  invisible 


98  OF  THE  MORAL  [P.abtI. 

dispensations  of  Providence,  to  be,  in  any  sort,  analogous 
to  what  appears:  or  that  both  together  make  up  one  uni- 
form scheme,  the  two  parts  of  which,  the  part  which  we 
see,  and  that  which  is  beyond  our  observation,  are  ana- 
logous to  each  other:  then,  there  must  be  a  like  natural 
tendency  in  the  derived  power,  throughout  the  universe, 
under  the  direction  of  virtue,  to  prevail  in  general  over 
that  which  is  not  under  its  direction ;  as  there  is  in  rea- 
son, derived  reason  in  the  universe,  to  prevail  over  brute 
force.  But  then,  in  order  to  the  prevalence  of  virtue, 
or  that  it  may  actually  produce,  what  it  has  a  tendency 
to  produce;  the  like  concurrences  are  necessary,  as  are, 
to  the  prevalence  of  reason.  There  must  be  some  pro- 
portion, between  the  natural  power  or  force  which  is,  and 
that  which  is  not,  under  the  direction  of  virtue :  there 
must  be  sufficient  length  of  time  ;  for  the  complete  suc- 
cess of  virtue,  as  of  reason,  cannot,  from  the  nature  of 
the  thing,  be  otherwise  than  gradual :  there  must  be,  as 
one  may  speak,  a  fair  field  of  trial,  a  stage  large  and  ex- 
tensive enough,  proper  occasions  and  opportunities,  for 
the  virtuous  to  join  together,  to  exert  themselves  against 
lawless  force,  and  to  reap  the  fruit  of  their  united  labours. 
Now  indeed  it  is  to  be  hoped,  that  the  disproportion  be- 
tween the  good  and  bad,  even  here  on  earth,  is  not  so 
great,  but  that  the  former  have  natural  power  sufficient 
to  their  prevailing  to  a  considerable  degree,  if  circumstan- 
ces would  permit  this  power  to  be  united.  For,  much 
less,  very  much  less,  power  under  the  direction  of  virtue^ 
would  prevail  over  much  greater  not  under  the  direction 
of  it.  However,  good  men  over  the  face  of  the  earth  can- 
not unite ;  as  for  other  reasons,  so  because  they  cannot 
be  sufficiently  ascertained  of  each  other's  characters. 
And  the  known  course  of  human  things,  the  scene  we 
are  now  passing  through,  particularly  the  shortness  of 
life,  denies  to  virtue  its  full  scope  in  several  other  re- 
spects. The  natural  tendency  which  we  have  been  con- 
sidering, though  real,  is  hindered  from  being  carried  into 
eflPect  in  the  present  state  :  but  these  hinderances  may  be 
removed  in  a  future  one.  Virtue,  to  borrow  the  Chris- 
tian allusion,  is  mihtant  here  ;  and  various  untoward  ac- 
cidents contribute  to  its  being  often  overborne :  but  it 


Ohap.  in.]  GOVERNMENT  OF  GOD.  99 

may  combat  with  greater  advantage  hereafter,  and  pre- 
vail completely,  and  enjoy  its  consequent  rewards,  in 
some  future  states.  Neglected  as  it  is,  perhaps  unknown, 
perhaps  despised  and  oppressed  here  ;  there  may  be 
scenes  in  eternity,  lasting  enough,  and  in  every  other 
way  adapted,  to  aiford  it  a  sufficient  sphere  of  action ; 
and  a  sufficient  sphere  for  the  natural  consequences  of  it 
to  follow  in  fact.  If  the  soul  be  naturally  immortal,  and 
this  state  be  a  progress  towards  a  future  one,  as  child- 
hood is  towards  mature  age  ;  good  men  may  naturally 
unite,  not  only  amongst  themselves,  but  also  with  other 
orders  of  virtuous  creatures,  in  that  future  state.  For 
virtue,  from  the  very  nature  of  it,  is  a  principle  and  bond 
of  union,  in  some  degree,  amongst  all  who  are  endued 
with  it,  and  known  to  each  other  ;  so  as  that  by  it,  a  good 
man  cannot  but  recommend  himself  to  the  favour  and 
protection  of  all  virtuous  beings,  throughout  the  whole 
universe,  who  can  be  acquainted  with  his  character,  and 
can  any  way  interpose  in  his  behalf  in  any  part  of  his 
duration.  And  one  might  add,  that  suppose  all  this  ad- 
vantageous tendency  of  virtue  to  become  effect,  amongst 
one  or  more  orders  of  creatures,  in  any  distant  scenes 
and  periods,  and  to  be  seen  by  any  orders  of  vicious 
creatures,  throughout  the  universal  kingdom  of  God ; 
this  happy  effect  of  virtue  would  have  a  tendency,  by  way 
of  example,  and  possibly  in  other  ways,  to  amend  those 
of  them  who  are  capable  of  amendment,  and  being  re- 
covered to  a  just  sense  of  virtue.  If  our  notions  of  the 
plan  of  Providence  were  enlarged  in  any  sort  proportion- 
able to  what  late  discoveries  have  enlarged  our  views 
with  respect  to  the  material  world ;  representations  of 
this  kind  would  not  appear  absurd  or  extravagant.  How- 
ever, they  are  not  to  be  taken  as  intended  for  a  literal 
delineation  of  what  is  in  fact  the  particular  scheme  of  tlu- 
universe,  which  cannot  be  known  without  revelation:  for 
suppositions  are  not  to  be  looked  on  as  true,  because  not 
incredible :  but  they  are  mentioned  to  show,  that  our 
finding  virtue  to  be  hindered  from  procuring  to  itself  such 
superiority  and  advantages,  is  no  objection  against  its 
having,  in  the  essential  nature  of  the  thing,  a  tendency 
to  procure  them.    And  the  suppositions  now  mentioned 


100  OF  THE  MORAL  [Part  I. 

do  plainly  show  this  :  for  they  show,  that  these  hinder- 
ances  are  so  far  from  heing  necessary,  that  we  ourselves 
can  easily  conceive,  how  they  may  be  removed  in  future 
states,  and  full  scope  be  granted  to  virtue.  And  all  these 
advantageous  tendencies  of  it  are  to  be  considered  as  de- 
clarations of  God  in  its  favour.  This  however  is  taking 
a  pretty  large  compass :  though  it  is  certain,  that,  as  the 
material  world  appears  to  be,  in  a  manner,  boundless  and 
immense;  there  must  be  some  scheme  of  Providence  vast 
in  proportion  to  it. 

But  let  us  return  to  the  earth  our  habitation ;  and  we 
shall  see  this  happy  tendency  of  virtue,  by  imagining  an 
instance  not  so  vast  and  remote :  by  supposing  a  king- 
dom or  society  of  men  upon  it,  perfectly  virtuous,  for  a 
succession  of  many  ages ;  to  which,  if  you  please,  may 
be  given  a  situation  advantageous  for  universal  monar- 
chy.   In  such  a  state,  there  would  be  no  such  thing  as 
faction  :  but  men  of  the  greatest  capacity  would  of  course, 
all  along,  have  the  chief  direction  of  affairs  Avillingly 
yielded  to  them  ;  and  they  would  share  it  among  them- 
selves without  envy.    Each  of  these  would  have  the  part 
assigned  him,  to  which  his  genius  was  peculiarly  adapt- 
ed :  and  others,  who  had  not  any  distinguished  genius, 
would  be  safe,  and  think  themselves  very  happy,  by  be- 
ing under  the  protection  and  guidance  of  those  who  had. 
Public  determinations  would  really  be  the  result  of  the 
united  wisdom  of  the  community  :  and  they  would  faith- 
fully be  executed,  by  the  united  strength  of  it.  Some 
would  in  a  higher  way  contribute,  but  all  would  in  some 
way  contribute,  to  the  public  prosperity  :  and  in  it,  each 
would  enjoy  the  fruits  of  his  own  virtue.    And  as  injus- 
tice, whether  by  fraud  or  force,  would  be  unknown 
among  themselves  ;  so  they  would  be  sufficiently  secured 
from  it  in  their  neighbours.    For  cunning  and  false  self- 
interest,  confederacies  in  injustice,  ever  slight,  and  ac- 
companied with  faction  and  intestine  treachery ;  these  on 
one  hand  would  be  found  mere  childish  folly  and  weak- 
ness, when  set  in  opposition  against  wisdom,  public  spi- 
rit, union  inviolable,  and  fidelity  on  the  other :  allowing 
both  a  sufficient  length  of  years  to  try  their  force.  Add 
tlie  general  influence,  which  such  a  kingdom  would  have 


Chap.  III.]  GOVERNMENT  OF  GOD.  101 

over  the  face  of  the  earth,  by  way  of  example  particular- 
ly, and  the  reverence  which  would  be  paid  it.  It  would 
plainly  be  superior  to  all  others,  and  the  world  must 
gradually  come  under  its  empire  ;  not  by  means  of  law- 
less violence  ;  but  partly  by  what  must  be  allowed  to  be 
just  conquest;  and  partly  by  other  kingdoms  submitting 
themselves  voluntarily  to  it,  throughout  a  course  of  ages, 
and  claiming  its  protection,  one  after  another,  in  succes- 
sive exigencies.  The  head  of  it  would  be  an  universal 
monarch,  in  another  sense  than  any  mortal  has  yet  been  ; 
and  the  eastern  style  would  be  hterally  applicable  to  him, 
that  all  people  J  nations  ^  and  languages  should  serve  him. 
And  though  indeed  our  knowledge  of  human  nature,  and 
the  whole  history  of  mankind,  show  the  impossibility, 
without  some  miraculous  interposition,  that  a  number  of 
men,  here  on  earth,  should  unite  in  one  society  or  go- 
vernment, in  the  fear  of  God  and  universal  practice  of 
virtue ;  find  that  such  a  government  should  continue  so 
united  for  a  succession  of  ages  :  yet  admitting  or  sup- 
posing this,  the  effect  would  be  as  now  drawn  out.  And 
thus  for  instance,  the  wonderful  power  and  prosperity 
promised  to  the  Jewish  nation  in  the  Scripture,  would 
be,  in  a  great  measure,  the  consequence  of  what  is  pre- 
dicted of  them  ;  that  the  people  should  he  all  righteous, 
and  inherit  the  land  forever;*  were  we  to  understand 
the  latter  phrase  of  a  long  continuance  only,  sufncient 
to  give  things  time  to  work.  The  predictions  of  this  kind, 
for  there  are  many  of  them,  cannot  come  to  pass,  in  the 
present  known  course  of  nature  ;  but  suppose  them  come 
to  pass,  and  then,  the  dominion  and  pre-eminence  pro- 
mised must  naturally  follow,  to  a  very  considerable  degree. 

Consider  now  the  general  system  of  religion;  that  the 
government  of  the  world  is  uniform,  and  one, and  moral; 
that  virtue  and  right  shall  finally  have  the  advantage,  and 
prevail  over  fraud  and  lawless  force,  over  the  deceits  as 
well  as  the  violence  of  wickedness,  under  the  conduct  of 
one  supreme  governor :  and  from  the  observations  above 
made,  it  will  appear,  that  Cilod  has,  by  our  reason,  given 
us  to  see  a  peculiar  connexion  in  the  several  parts  of  this 
scheme,  and  a  tendency  towards  the  coinpletioa  of  it, 

«  Isa.  Ix.  21. 


102  OF  THE  MORAL  [Part  I. 

arising  oat  of  the  very  nature  of  virtue:  which  tendency 
is  to  be  considered  as  somewhat  moral  in  the  essential 
constitution  of  things.  If  any  one  should  think  all  this 
to  be  of  little  importance  ;  I  desire  him  to  consider,  what 
he  would  think,  if  vice  had,  essentially  and  in  its  nature, 
these  advantageous  tendencies  ;  or  if  virtue  had  essential- 
ly the  direct  contrary  ones. 

But  it  may  be  objected,  that  notwithstanding  all  these 
natural  effects  and  these  natural  tendencies  of  virtue;  yet 
things  may  be  now  going  on  throughout  the  universe, 
and  may  go  on  hereafter,  in  the  same  mixed  way  as 
here  at  present  upon  earth :  virtue  sometimes  pros- 
perous, sometimes  depressed ;  vice  sometimes  punished, 
sometimes  successful.  The  answer  to  wdiich  is,  that  it 
is  not  the  purpose  of  this  chapter,  nor  of  this  treatise, 
properly  to  prove  God's  perfect  moral  government  over 
the  world,  or  the  truth  of  Rehgion  ;  but  to  observe  what 
there  is  in  the  constitution  and  course  of  nature,  to  con- 
firm the  proper  proof  of  it,  supposed  to  be  known:  and 
that  the  w^eight  of  the  foregoing  observations  to  this  pur- 
pose may  be  thus  distinctly  proved.  Pleasure  and  pain 
are  indeed  to  a  certain  degree,  say  to  a  very  high  degree, 
distributed  amongst  us  without  any  apparent  regard  to 
*he  merit  or  demerit  of  characters.  And  were  there  no- 
thing else  concerning  this  matter  discernible  in  the  con- 
stitution and  course  of  nature;  there  would  be  no  ground 
from  the  constitution  and  course  of  nature  to  hope  or  to 
fear,  that  men  would  be  rewarded  or  punished  hereafter 
according  to  their  deserts :  which,  how^ever,  it  is  to  be 
remarked,  implies,  that  even  then  there  would  be  no 
ground  from  appearances  to  think,  that  vice  upon  the 
whole  would  have  the  advantage,  rather  than  that  virtue 
would.  And  thus  the  proof  of  a  future  state  of  retribu- 
tion would  rest  upon  the  usual  known  arguments  for  it : 
which  are  1  think  plainly  unanswerable  ;  and  would  be 
so,  though  there  were  no  additional  conftrmation  of  them 
from  the  things  above  insisted  on.  But  these  things  are 
a  very  strong  confirmation  of  them.  For, 

First y  They  show  that  the  Author  of  Nature  is  not 
indifferent  to  virtue  and  vice.  They  amount  to  a 
declaration,  from  him,  determinate  and  not  to  be  evaded. 


Clup.  III.: 


GOVERNMENT   OF  GOD. 


103 


in  favour  of  ore,  and  against  the  other;  such  a  declaration, 
as  there  is  nothing  to  be  set  over  against  or  answer,  on 
the  part  of  vice.  So  that  were  a  man,  laying  aside  the 
proper  proof  of  Religion,  to  determine  from  the  course 
of  nature  only,  whether  it  were  most  probable,  that  the 
righteous  or  the  wicked  would  have  tl  e  advantage  in  a 
future  life  ;  there  can  be  no  doubt,  but  that  he  would 
determine  the  probability  to  be,  that  tlie  former  would. 
The  course  of  nature  then,  in  the  view  of  it  now  given 
funrishes  us  with  a  real  practical  proof  of  the  obhgations 
of  Religion. 

Second!i/y  When,  conformably  to  what  Religion  teaches 
us,  God  shall  reward  and  punish  virtue  and  vice  as  such, 
so  as  that  every  one  shall,  upon  the  whole,  have  his 
deserts ;  this  distributive  justice  will  not  be  a  thing 
different  in  kind,  but  only  in  degree,  from  what  we  ex- 
perience in  his  present  government.  It  will  be  that  in 
ejfecf,  toward  which  we  now  see  a  tendency.  It  will 
be  no  more  than  the  completion  of  that  moral  govern- 
ment, the  principles  and  beginning  of  which  have  been 
shown,  beyond  al]  dispute,  discernible  in  the  present 
constitution  and  course  of  nature.  And  from  hence 
it  follows. 

Thirdly,  That,  as  under  the  natural  government  of  God, 
our  experience  of  those  kinds  and  degrees  of  happiness 
and  misery,  which  we  do  experience  at  present,  gives 
just  ground  to  hope  for,  and  to  fear,  higher  degrees 
and  other  kinds  of  both  in  a  future  state,  supposing  a 
future  state  admitted  :  so  under  his  moral  government  our 
experience,  that  virtue  and  vice  are,  in  the  manners  above 
mentioned,  actually  rewarded  and  punished  at  present, 
in  a  certain  degree,  gives  just  ground  to  hope  and  to 
f»  ar,  that  they  mag  he  rewarded  and  punished  in  a  higher 
degree  hereafter.  It  is  acknowledged  indeed  that  this 
alone  is  not  sufficient  srround  to  think,  that  they  actually 
will  be  rewarded  and  punished  in  a  higher  degree,  rather 
than  in  a  lower:  but  then, 

Lastly,  Tliere  is  sufficient  ground  to  think  so,  from  the 
good  and  bad  tendencies  of  virtue  and  vice.  For  these 
tendencies  are  essential,  and  founded  in  the  nature  of 
tSings:  whereas  the  hinderanccs  to  their  becoming  effect 


104  MORAL  GOVERNMENT  OF  GOD.  [P^rt  I. 

are,  in  numberless  cases,  not  necessary,  but  artificial 
onl\'.  Now  it  may  be  much  more  strongly  argued,  that 
these  tendencies,  as  well  as  the  actual  rewards  and 
punishments,  of  virtue  and  vice,  which  arise  directly  out 
of  the  nature  of  things,  will  remain  hereafter,  than  that, 
the  accidental  hinderances  of  them  will.  And  if  these^ 
hinderances  do  not  remain ;  those  rewards  and  punish- 
ments cannot  but  be  carried  on  much  farther  towards  the 
perfection  of  moral  government:  i.  e.  the  tendencies  of 
virtue  and  vice  will  become  effect ;  but  when,  or  where, 
or  in  what  particular  way,  cannot  be  known  at  all,  but  by 
revelation. 

Upon  the  whole  :  there  is  a  kind  of  moral  government 
implied  in  God's  natural  government:*  virtue  and  vice 
/  are  naturally  rewarded  and  punished  as  beneficial  and 
mischievous  to  society  ;t  and  rewarded  and  punished  di- 
rectly as  virtue  and  vice.t  The  notion  then  of  a  moral 
scheme  of  government  is  not  fictitious,  but  natural;  for- 
it  is  sussrested  to  our  thouo:hts  bv  the  constitution  and 
course  of  nature :  and  the  execution  of  this  scheme  is 
actually  begun,  in  the  instances  here  mentioned.  And 
these  things  are  to  be  considered  as  a  declaration  of  the 
Author  of  Nature,  for  virtue,,  and  against  vice  :  they  give 
a  credibility  to  the  supposition  of  'their  being  rewarded 
and  punished  hereafter ;  and  also  ground  to  hope  and  to 
fear,  that  they  may  be- rewarded  and  punished  in  higher 
degrees  than  they  are  here.  And  as  all  this  is  confirm- 
ed, so  the  argument  for  Religion,  from  the  constitution 
and  coarse  of  nature,  is  carried  on  farther,  by  observing, 
that  there  are  natural  tendencies,  and,  in  innumerable 
cases,  only  artificial  hinderances,  to  this  moral  scheme's 
being  carried  on  much  farther  towards  perfection,  than 
it  is  at  present. §  The  notion  then  of  a  moral  scheme 
of  government,  much  more  perfect  than  what  is  seen,  is 
not  a  fictitious,  but  a  natural  notion  ;  for  it  is  suggested 
to  our  thoughts,  by  the  essential  tendencies  of  virtue  and 
vice.  And  these  tendencies  are  to  be  considered  as  in- 
timations, as  implicit  prpmiscs  and  threatenings,  from  the 
Author  of  Nature,  of  much  greater  rewards  and  punish- 
nieiiLs  to  follow  virtue  and  vice,  than  do  at  present.  And' 

*  p.  87.  t  F.  B8.  t  P«  80,  &c.  ^  P.  95,  &c. 


Chap.  IV.]  OF  A  STATE  OF  TRIAL.  105 

indeed,  every  natural  tendency,  which  is  to  continue,  but 
which  is  hindered  from  becoming  effect  by  only  accident 
tal  causes,  affords  a  presumption,  that  such  tendency 
will,  some  time  or  other,  become  effect:  a  presumption 
in  degree  proportionable  to  the  length  of  the  duration, 
through  w^hich  such  tendency  will  continue.  And  from 
these  things  together,  arises  a  real  presumption,  that  the 
moral  scheme  of  government  established  in  nature,  shall 
be  carried  on  much  farther  towards  perfection  hereafter ; 
and,  I  think,  a  presumption  that  it  will  be  absolutely 
completed.  But  from  these  things,  joined  with  the  moral 
nature  which  God  has  given  us,  considered  as  given  us 
by  him,  arises  a  practical  proof*  that  it  will  be  completed: 
a  proof  from  fact ;  and  therefore  a  distinct  one  from  that 
which  is  deduced  ftom  the  eternal  and  unalterable  rela- 
tioiis,  the  fitness  and  unfitness  of  actions. 


CHAP.  IV. 

OF  A  STATE  OF  PROBATION,  AS  IMPLYING  TRIAL, 
DIFFICULTIES,  AND  DANGER. 

The  general  doctrine  of  Religion,  that  our  present  life  is 
a  state  of  probation  for  a  future  one,  comprehends  under 
it  several  particular  things,  distinct  from  each  other. 
But  the  first  and  most  common  meaning  of  it  seems  tc 
be,  that  our  future  interest  is  now  depending,  and  de- 
pending upon  ourselves  ;  that  we  have  scope  and  oppor- 
tunities here,  for  that  good  and  bad  behaviour,  which 
God  will  reward  and  punish  hereafter  ;  together  with 
temptations  to  one,  as  well  as  inducements  of  reason  to 
tlie  other.  And  this  is,  in  a  great  measure,  the  same 
with  saying,  that  we  are  under  the  moral  government  of 
God,  and  to  give  an  account  of  our  actions  to  him.  For 
the  notion  of  a  future  account  and  g(Mieral  righteous 
judgment,  implies  some  sort  of  temptations  to  what  is 
wrong  :  otherwise  thcie  would  Ik^  no  moral  possii)iHty  of 
doing  wrong,  nor  ground  for  judgmcmt,  or  discrimination. 
But  there  is  tiiis  diti'erence,  that  the  word  probation  is 

•     *  S«'e  this  i<rcM)f  drawn  out  Iji  irfly,  Cli.  vi. 


106  OF  A  STATE  OF  TRIAL.  [Part  [ 

more  distinctly  and  particularly  expressive  of  allurements 
to  wrong,  or  difficulties  in  adhering  uniformly  to  what  is 
right,  and  of  the  danger  of  miscarrying  by  such  tempta- 
tions, than  the  words  moral  goveniment.  A  state  of  pro- 
bation then,  as  thus  particularly  implying  in  it  trial,  dif- 
ficulties, and  danger,  may  require  to  be  considered  dis- 
tinctly by  itself. 

And  as  the  moral  government  of  God,  which  Religion 
teaches  us,  implies,  that  we  are  in  a  state  of  trial  with 
regard  to  a  future  world:  so  also  his  natural  government 
over  us  implies,  that  w^e  are  in  a  state  of  trial,  in  the  like 
sense,  with  regard  to  the  present  world.  Natural  go- 
vernment by  rewards  and  punishments,  as  much  implies 
natural  trial,  as  moral  government  does  moral  trial. 
The  natural  government  of  God  here  meant*  consists 
in  his  annexing  pleasure  to  some  actions,  and  pain  to 
others,  which  are  in  our  power  to  do  or  forbear,  and  in 
giving  us  notice  of  such  appointment  beforehand.  This 
necessarily  implies,  that  he  has  made  our  happiness  and 
misery,  or  our  interest,  to  depend  in  part  upon  ourselves. 
And  so  far  as  men  have  temptations  to  any  course  of 
action,  which  will  probably  occasion  them  greater  tem- 
poral inconvenience  and  uneasiness,  than  satisfaction; 
so  far  their  temporal  interest  is  in  danger  from  them- 
selves, or  they  are  in  a  state  of  trial  with  respect  to  it. 
Now  people  often  blame  others,  and  even  themselves, 
for  their  misconduct  in  their  temporal  concerns.  And 
we  find  many  are  greatly  wanting  to  themselves,  and 
miss  of  that  natural  happiness,  which  they  miglit  have 
obtained  in  the  present  life:  perhaps  every  one  does  in 
some  degree.  But  many  run  themselves  into  great  in- 
convenience, and  into  extreme  distress  and  misery:  not 
through  incapacity  of  knowing  better,  and  doing  better, 
for  themselves,  which  would  be  nothing  to  the  present 
purpose;  but  through  their  own  fault.  And  these  things 
necessarily  imply  temptation,  and  danger  of  miscarry- 
ing, in  a  greater  or  less  degree  with  respect  to  oui 
worldly  interest  or  happiness.  Every  one  too,  without 
having  Religion  in  his  thouglits,  speaks  of  the  liazards 
which  young  people  run,  upon  their  setting  out  in  the 


*Ch.  ii. 


Chap.  IV.]  OF  A  STATE  OF  TRIAL.  107 

world :  hazards  from  other  causes,  than  merely  their  ig- 
norance, and  unavoidable  accidents.  And  some  courses 
of  vice,  at  least,  being  contrary  to  men's  worldly  interest 
or  good ;  temptations  to  these  must  at  the  same  time  be 
temptations  to  forego  our  present  and  our  future  inter- 
est. Thus  in  our  natural  or  temporal  capacity,  we  are 
in  a  state  of  trial,  i.  e.  of  difficuHy  and  danger,  analo- 
gous, or  like  to  our  moral  and  religious  trial. 

This  will  more  distinctly  appear  to  any  one,  who 
thinks  it  worth  while,  more  distinctly,  to  consider,  what 
it  is  which  constitutes  our  trial  in  both  capacities,  and  to 
observe,  how  mankind  behave  under  it. 

And  that  which  constitutes  this  our  trial,  in  both  these 
capacities,  must  be  somewhat  either  in  our  external  cir- 
cumstances, or  in  our  nature.  For,  on  the  one  hand, 
persons  may  be  betrayed  into  wrong  behaviour  upon  sur- 
prise, or  overcome  upon  any  other  very  singular  and  ex- 
traordinary external  occasions;  who  would,  otherwise, 
have  pr.  served  their  character  of  prudence  and  of  virtue: 
in  which  cases,  every  one,  in  speaking  of  the  wrong  be- 
haviour of  th^se  persons,  would  impute  it  to  such  parti- 
cular external  circumstances.  And  on  the  other  hand, 
men  who  have  contracted  habits  of  vice  and  folly  of  any 
kind,  or  have  some  particular  passions  in  excess,  will 
seek  opportunities,  and,  as  it  were,  go  out  of  their  way, 
to  gratify  themselves  in  these  respects,  at  the  expense  of 
their  wisdom  and  their  virtue;  led  to  it,  as  every  one 
would  say,  not  by  external  temptations,  but  by  such 
liabits  and  passions.  And  the  account  of  this  last  case 
is,  that  particular  passions  are  no  more  coincident  with 
orudence,  or  that  reasonable  self-lo^  e,  the  end  of  which 
is  our  worldly  interest,  than  they  are  with  the  principle 
of  virtue  and  religion  ;  but  often  draw  contrary  ways  to 
one,  as  well  as  to  the  other :  and  so  such  particular  pas- 
sions are  as  much  tcm])tations,  to  act  imprudently  with 
regard  to  our  worUMy  interest,  as  to  act  viciously.* 
However,  as  when  we  say,  men  are  misled  by  external 
circumstances  of  temptation  ;  it  cannot  but  be  understood, 
that  there  is  somewhat  wiiliin  thcmseivcs.  to  render  those 

•  ?pp  S.  nnons  pr.aclu  J  at  the  RulU,  112^^.  2il  nl.  \\  205,  &C.  Prefl  p.  25;  &C 


108 


OF  A  STATE  OF  TRIAL. 


[Part  I 


circumstances  temptations,  or  to  render  them  susceptible 
of  impressions  from  them ;  so  when  we  say,  they  are 
misled  by  passions  ;  it  is  always  supposed,  that  there  are 
occasions,  circumstances,  and  objects,  exciting  these  pas- 
sions, and  affording  means  for  gratifying  them.  And 
therefore,  temptations  from  within,  and  from  without, 
coincide,  and  mutually  imply  each  other.  Now  the  se- 
veral external  objects  of  the  appetites,  passions,  and  af- 
fections, being  present  to  the  senses,  or  offering  them- 
selves to  the  mind,  and  so  exciting  emotions  suitable  to 
their  nature  ;  not  only  in  cases  where  they  can  be  grati- 
fied consistently  with  innocence  and  prudence,  but  also 
in  cases  where  they  cannot,  and  yet  can  be  gratified  im- 
prudently and  viciously  :  this  as  really  puts  them  in  dan- 
ger of  voluntarily  foregoing  their  present  interest  or 
good,  as  their  future  ;  and  as  really  renders  self-denial 
necessary  to  secure  one,  as  the  other :  i.  e.  we  are  in  a 
like  state  of  trial  with  respect  to  both,  by  the  very  same 
passions,  excited  by  the  very  same  means.  Thus  man- 
kind having  a  temporal  interest  depending  upon  them- 
selves, and  a  prudent  course  of  behaviour  being  neces- 
sary to  secure  it ;  passions  inordinately  excited,  whether 
by  means  of  example,  or  by  any  other  external  circum- 
stance, towards  such  objects,  at  such  times,  or  in  such 
degrees,  as  that  they  cannot  be  gratified  consistently  with 
worldly  prudence ;  are  temptations,  dangerous,  and  too 
often  successful  temptations,  to  forego  a  greater  tem- 
poral good  for  a  less ;  i.  e.  to  forego  what  is,  upon  the 
whole,  our  temporal  interest,  for  the  sake  of  a  present 
gratification.  This  is  a  description  of  our  state  of  trial 
in  our  temporal  capacity.  Substitute  now  the  word 
future  for  temporal^  and  virtue  for  prudence  ;  and  it  will 
be  just  as  proper  a  description  of  our  state  of  trial  in  our 
religious  capacity;  so  analogous  are  they  to  each  other. 

If,  from  consideration  of  this  our  like  state  of  trial 
in  both  capacities,  we  go  on  to  observe  farther,  how  man- 
kind behave  under  it;  we  shall  find  there  are  some,  who 
have  so  little  sense  of  it,  that  they  scarce  look  beyond 
the  passing  day:  they  are  so  taken  up  with  present  grati- 
fications, as  to  have,  in  a  manner,  no  feeling  of  conse- 
quences, no  regard  to  their  future  case  or  fortune  in  this 


Chap.iv.j  of  a  state  of  trial.  icq 

life  ;  any  more  than  to  their  happiness  in  another.  Some 
appear  to  be  bhnded  and  deceived  by  inordinate  passion, 
in  their  worldly  concerns,  as  much  as  in  Religion. 
Others  are,  not  deceived,  but,  as  it  were,  forcibly  carried 
away  by  the  like  passions,  against  their  better  judgment, 
and  feeble  resolutions  too  of  acting  better.  And  there 
are  men,  and  truly  they  are  not  a  few,  who  shamelessly 
avow,  not  their  interest,  but  their  mere  will  and  pleasure, 
to  be  their  law  of  life :  and  who,  in  open  defiance  of 
every  thing  that  is  reasonable,  will  go  on  in  a  course  of 
vicious  extravagance,  foreseeing,  with  no  remorse  and 
little  fear,  that  it  will  be  their  temporal  ruin  ;  and  some 
of  them,  under  the  apprehension  of  the  consequences  of 
wickedness  in  another  state.  And  to  speak  in  the  most 
moderate  w^ay,  human  creatures  are  not  only  continually 
liable  to  go  wrong  voluntarily,  but  we  see  likewise  that 
they  often  actually  do  so,  with  respect  to  their  temporal 
interests,  as  well  as  with  respect  to  Religion. 

Thus  our  difficulties  and  dangers,  or  our  trials,  in  our 
temporal  and  our  religious  capacity,  as  they  proceed 
from  the  same  causes,  and  have  the  same  effect  upon 
men's  behaviour,  are  evidently  analogous,  and  of  the  same 
kind. 

It  may  be  added,  that  as  the  difficulties  and  dangers 
of  miscarrying  in  our  religious  state  of  trial,  are  greatly 
increased,  and  one  is  ready  to  think,  in  a  manner  wholly 
made,  by  the  ill  behaviour  of  others ;  6y  a  wrong  educa- 
tion, wrong  in  a  moral  sense,  sometimes  positively  vici- 
ous ;  by  general  bad  example  ;  by  the  dishonest  artifices 
which  are  got  into  business  of  all  kinds  ;  and,  in  very 
many  parts  of  the  world,  by  religion's  being  corrupted 
into  superstitions,  which  indulge  men  in  their  vices  :  so 
in  like  manner,  the  difficulties  of  conducting  ourselves 
prudently  in  respect  to  our  present  interest,  and  our  dan- 
ger of  being  led  aside  from  pursuing  it,  are  greatly  in- 
creased, by  a  foolish  education;  and,  after  we  come  to 
mature  age,  by  the  extravagance  and  carelessness  of 
others,  whom  we  have  intercourse  with :  and  by  mistaken 
notions,  very  generally  prevalent,  and  taken  up  from  com- 
mon opinion,  concerning  temporal  happiness,  and  where- 
in it  consists.    And  persons,  by  their  own  negligence 


110  OF  A  STATE  OF  TRIAL.  [p^rt  I. 

and  folly  in  their  temporal  affairs,  no  less  than  by  a  course 
of  vice,  bring  themselves  into  new  difficulties  ;  and,  by 
habits  of  indulgence,  become  less  qualified  to  go  through 
them :  and  one  irregularity  after  another,  embarrasses 
things  to  such  a  degree,  that  they  know  not  whereabout 
they  are;  and  often  makes  the  path  of  conduct  so  intri- 
cate and  perplexed,  that  it  is  difficult  to  trace  it  out;  dif- 
ficult even  to  determine  what  is  the  prudent  or  the  moral 
part.  Thus,  for  instance,  wrong  behaviour  in  one  stage 
of  life,  youth;  wrong,  I  mean,  considering  ourselves  only 
in  our  tem.poral  capacity,  without  taking  in  religion; 
this,  in  several  ways,  increases  the  difficulties  of  right 
behaviour  in  mature  age;  i.e.  puts  us  into  a  more  dis- 
advantageous state  of  trial  in  our  temporal  capacity. 

We  are  an  inferior  part  of  the  creation  of  God.  There 
are  natural  appearances  of  our  being  in  a  state  of  degra- 
dation.* And  we  certainly  are  in  a  condition,  which 
does  not  seem,  by  any  means,  the  most  advantageous  we 
could  imagine  or  desire,  either  in  our  natural  or  moral 
capacity,  for  securing  either  our  present  or  future  inter- 
est. However,  this  condition,  low  and  careful  and  un- 
certain as  it  is,  does  not  afford  any  just  ground  of  com- 
plaint. For,  as  men  may  manage  their  temporal  affairs 
with  prudence,  and  so  pass  their  days  here  on  earth  in 
tolerable  ease  and  satisfaction,  by  a  moderate  degree  of 
care:  so  likewise  w^ith  regard  to  religion,  there  is  no 
more  required  than  what  they  are  well  able  to  do,  and 
what  they  must  be  greatly  wanting  to  themselves,  if  they 
neglect.  And  for  persons  to  have  that  put  upon  them, 
which  they  are  well  able  to  go  through,  and  no  more, 
we  naturally  consider  as  an  equitable  thing ;  supposing 
it  done  by  proper  authority.  Nor  have  we  any  more 
reason  to  complain  of  it,  with  regard  to  the  Author  of 
Nature,  than  of  his  not  having  given  us  other  advantages, 
belonging  to  other  orders  of  creatures. 

But  the  thing  here  insisted  upon  is,  that  the  state  oi 
trial,  which  Religion  teaches  us  w^e  are  in,  is  rendered 
credible,  by  its  being  throughout  uniform  and  of  a  piece 
with  the  general  conduct  of  Providence  towards  us,  in  all 
other  respects  within  the  compass  of  our  knowledge. 

Part  n.  Cliap.  v. 


Chap  IV]  ^"'^^  A  STATE  OF  TRIAL.  Ill 

Indeed  if  mankind,  considered  in  their  natural  capacity, 
as  inhabitants  of  this  world  only,  found  themselves,  from 
their  birth  to  their  death,  in  a  settled  state  of  security 
and  happiness,  without  any  sohcitude  or  thought  of  their 
own  :  or  if  they  were  in  no  danger  of  being  brought  in- 
to inconveniences  and  distress,  by  carelessness,  or  the 
folly  of  passion,  through  bad  example,  the  treachery  of 
others,  or  the  deceitful  appearances  of  things  :  were  this 
our  natural  condition,  then  it  might  seem  strange,  and 
be  some  presumption  against  the  truth  of  Religion,  that 
it  represents  our  future  and  more  general  interest,  as  not 
secure  of  course,  but  as  depending  upon  our  behaviour, 
and  requiring  recollection  and  self-government  to  obtain 
it.  For  it  might  be  alleged,  "  What  you  say  is  our  con- 
dition, in  one  respect,  is  not  in  any  wise  of  a  sort  with 
what  we  find,  by  experience,  our  condition  is  in  another. 
Our  whole  present  interest  is  secured  to  our  hands,  with- 
out any  solicitude  of  ours  ;  and  why  should  not  our 
future  interest,  if  we  have  any  such,  be  so  too  ?"  But 
since,  on  the  contrary,  thought  and  consideration,  the 
voluntary  denying  ourselves  many  things  which  we  de- 
sire, and  a  course  of  behaviour,  far  from  being  always 
agreeable  to  us  ;  are  absolutely  necessary  to  our  acting 
even  a  common  decent,  and  common  prudent  part,  so  as 
to  pass  with  any  satisfaction  through  the  present  world, 
and  be  received  upon  any  tolerable  good  terms  in  it: 
since  this  is  the  case,  all  presumption  against  self-denial 
and  attention  being  necessary  to  secure  our  higher  inter- 
est, is  removed.  Had  we  not  experience,  it  might,  per- 
haps speciously,  be  urijed,  that  it.  is  improbable  anv  thing 
of  hazard  and  danger  should  be  put  upon  us  bv  an  infi- 
nite Being  ;  when  every  thing  which  is  hazard  and  dan- 
ger in  our  manner  of  conception,  and  will  end  in  error, 
confusion,  and  misery,  is  now  already  certain  in  his  fore- 
knowledge. And  ind(  ed,  why  anv  thing  of  hazard  and 
danger  should  be  put  upon  such  frail  creatures  as  we  are, 
may  well  be  thought  a  difficulty  in  speculation  ;  and  can- 
not but  be  so,  till  we  know  th.e  whole,  or,  however,  nuich 
more  of  the  case,  liut  still  the  constitution  of  nature  is 
as  it  is.  Our  happiness  and  misery  are  trusted  to  our 
conduct,  and  iniide  to  depend  upon  it.    Somewhat,  and. 


112 


OF  A  STATE  OF 


[Part  I, 


in  many  circumstances,  a  great  deal  too,  is  put  upon  us, 
either  to  do,  or  to  suffer,  as  we  choose.  And  all  the  vari- 
ous miseries  of  life,  which  people  bring  upon  themselves 
by  negligence  and  folly,  and  might  have  avoided  by  pro- 
per care,  are  instances  of  this :  which  miseries  are  be- 
forehand, just  as  contingent  and  undetermined  as  their 
conduct,  and  left  to  be  determined  by  it. 

These  observations  are  an  answer  to  the  objections 
against  the  credibility  of  a  state  of  trial,  as  implying 
temptations,  and  real  danger  of  miscarrying  with  regard 
to  our  general  interest,  under  the  moral  government  of 
God :  and  they  show,  that,  if  we  are  at  all  to  be  consid- 
ered in  such  a  capacity,  and  as  having  such  an  interest  ; 
the  general  analogy  of  Providence  must  lead  us  to  ap- 
prehend ourselves  in  danger  of  miscarrying,  in  different 
degrees,  as  to  this  interest,  by  our  neglecting  to.  act  the 
proper  part  belonging  to  us  in  that  capacity.  For  we 
have  a  present  interest  under  the  government  of  God, 
which  we  experience  here  upon  earth.  And  this  inter- 
est, as  it  is  not  forced  upon  us,  so  neither  is  it  offered  to 
our  acceptance,  but  to  our  acquisition ;  in  such  sort,  as 
that  we  are  in  danger  of  missing  it,  by  means  of  tempta- 
tions to  neglect,  or  act  contrary  to  it ;  and  without  atten- 
tion and  self-denial,  must  and  do  miss  of  it.  It  is  then 
perfectly  credible,  that  this  may  be  our  case,  with  respect 
to  that  chief  and  final  good,  which  Religion  proposes 
to  us. 

CHAP.  V.    _  ;2  Tr:  • 

OF  A  STATE  OF  PROBATION,  AS  INTENDED  FOR  MORAL 
DISCIPLINE  AND  IMPROVEMENT. 

From  the  consideration  of  our  being  in  a  probation-state, 
of  so  much  difficulty  and  hazard,  naturally  arises  the 
question,  how  we  came  to  be  placed  in  it.^  But  such  a 
general  inquiry  as  this  would  be  found  involved  in  in- 
superable difficulties.  For,  though  some  of  these  diffi- 
culties would  be  lessened  by  observing,  that  all  wicked- 
ness is  voluntary,  as  is  implied  in  its  very  notion  ;  and 
that  many  of  the  miseries  of  life  have  apparent  good, 


Chap,  v.]  MORAL  DISCIPLINE.  ]  13 

effects:  yet,  when  we  consider  other  circumstances  be- 
longing to  both,  and  what  must  be  the  consequence  of 
the  former  in  a  hfe  to  come ;  it  cannot  but  be  acknow- 
ledged plain  folly  and  presumption,  to  pretend  to  give  an 
account  of  the  whole  reasons  of  this  matter :  the  whole 
reasons  of  our  being  allotted  a  condition,  out  of  which  so 
much  wickedness  and  misery,  so  circumstanced,  would 
in  fact  arise.  Whether  it  be  not  beyond  our  faculties, 
not  only  to  find  out,  but  even  to  understand,  the  whole 
account  of  this  ;  or,  though  we  should  be  supposed  capa- 
ble of  understanding  it,  yet,  whether  it  would  be  of  ser- 
vice or  prejudice  to  us  to  be  informed  of  it,  is  impossible 
to  say.  But  as  our  present  condition  can  in  no  wise  be 
shown  inconsistent  with  the  perfect  moral  government 
of  God :  so  Religion  teaches  us  we  were  placed  in  it, 
that  we  might  qualify  ourselves,  by  the  practice  of  virtue, 
for  another  state  which  is  to  follow  it.  And  this,  though 
but  a  partial  answer,  a  very  partial  one  indeed,  to  the  in- 
quiry now  mentioned  ;  yet,  is  a  more  satisfactory  answer 
to  another,  which  is  of  real,  and  of  the  utmost  importance 
to  us  to  have  answered  :  the  inquiry.  What  is  our  busi- 
ness here  ?  The  known  end  then,  why  we  are  placed 
in  a  state  of  so  much  affliction,  hazard,  and  difficulty,  is, 
our  improvement  in  virtue  and  piety,  as  the  requisite 
qualification  for  a  future  state  of  security  and  happi- 
ness. 

Now  the  beginning  of  life,  considered  as  an  education 
for  mature  age  in  the  present  world,  appears  plainly,  at 
first  sight,  analogous  to  this  our  trial  for  a  future  one  : 
the  former  being  in  our  temporal  capacity,  what  the  lat- 
ter is  in  our  religious  capacity.  13ut  some  observations 
common  to  both  of  them,  and  a  more  distinct  considera- 
tion of  each,  will  more  distinctly  show  the  extent  and 
force  of  the  analogy  between  them  ;  and  the  credibility, 
which  arises  from  hence,  as  well  as  from  the  nature  of 
the  thing,  that  the  present  life  was  intended  to  be  a  state 
•    of  discipline  for  a  future  one. 

I.  Every  species  of  creatures  is,  wc  sec,  designed  for 
a  particular  way  of  life  ;  to  which,  the  nature,  the  capa- 
cities, temper,  and  qualifications  of  each  species,  are  as 
necessary,  as  their  external  circumstances.    Both  come 

H 


114 


OF  A  STATE  OF 


[Part  Z 


into  the  notion  of  such  state,  or  particular  way  of  life, 
and  are  constituent  parts  of  it.  Change  a  man's  capaci- 
ties or  character  to  the  degree  in  which  it  is  conceivable 
they  may  be  changed  ;  and  he  would  be  altogether  inca- 
pable of  a  human  course  of  life,  and  human  happiness  ; 
as  incapable,  as  if,  his  nature  continuing  unchanged,  he 
were  placed  in  a  world,  where  he  had  no  sphere  of  ac- 
tion, nor  any  objects  to  answer  his  appetites,  passions, 
and  affections  of  any  sort.  One  thing  is  set  over  against 
another,  as  an  ancient  writer  expresses  it.  Our  nature 
corresponds  to  our  external  condition.  Without  this 
correspondence,  there  would  be  no  possibility  of  any^ 
such  thing  as  human  life  and  human  happiness:  which 
life  and  happiness  are,  therefore,  a  result  from  our  nature 
and  condition  jointly:  meaning  by  human  life,  not  living 
in  the  literal  sense,  but  the  whole  complex  notion  com- 
monly understood  by  those  words.  Sc  that,  without  de- 
termining what  will  be  the  employment  and  happiness, 
the  particular  life,  of  good  men  hereafter;  there  must  be 
some  determinate  capacities,  some  necessary  character 
and  qualifications,  without  which  persons  cannot  but  be 
utterly  incapable  of  it :  in  like  manner,  as  there  must  be 
some,  without  which  men  would  be  incapable  of  their 
present  state  of  life.  Now, 

II.  The  constitution  of  human  creatures,  and  indeed 
of  all  creatures  which  come  under  our  notice,  is  such, 
as  that  they  are  capable  of  naturally  becoming  qualified 
for  states  of  life,  for  which  they  were  once  wholly  un- 
qualified. In  imagination  we  may  indeed  conceive  of 
creatures,  as  incapable  of  having  any  of  their  faculties 
naturally  enlarged,  or  as  being  unable  naturally  to  acquire 
any  new  qualifications :  but  the  faculties  of  every  species 
known  to  us  are  made  for  enlargement;  for  acquirements 
of  experience  and  habits.  We  find  ourselves  in  parti- 
cular endued  with  capacities,  not  only  of  perceiving  ideas, 
and  of  knowledge  or  perceiving  truth,  but  also  of  storing 
up  our  ideas  and  knowledge  by  memory.  Wc  are  capa- 
ble, not  only  of  acting,  and  of  having  different  momen- 
tary impressions  made  u])on  us  ;  but  of  getting  a  new 
facility  in  any  kind  of  action,  and  of  settled  alterations  in 
our  temper  or  character.    The  power  of  the  two  last  is 


Chap.  V.]  MORAL  DISCIPLINE.  1 1  5 

the  power  of  liaMts.  But  neither  the  perception  of 
ideas,  nor  knowledge  of  any  sort,  are  habits;  though 
absolutely  necessary  to  the  forming  of  them.  However, 
apprehension,  reason,  memiory,  which  are  the  capacities 
of  acquiring  knowledge,  are  greatly  improved  by  exer- 
cise. Whether  the  word  habit  is  applicable  to  all  these 
improvements,  and  in  particular  how  far  the  powers  of 
memory  and  of  habits  may  be  powers  of  the  same  nature, 
I  shall  not  inquire.  But  that  perceptions  come  into  our 
minds  readily  and  of  course,  by  means  of  their  having 
been  there  before,  seems  a  thing  of  the  same  sort,  as 
readiness  in  any  particular  kind  of  action,  proceeding 
from  being  accustomed  to  it.  And  aptness  to  recollect 
practical  observations  of  service  in  our  conduct,  is  plainly 
habit  in  many  cases.  There  are  habits  of  perception, 
and  habits  of  action.  An  instance  of  the  former,  is  our 
constant  and  even  involuntary  readiness,  in  correcting 
the  impressions  of  our  sight  concerning  magnitudes  and 
distances,  so  as  to  substitute  judgment  in  the  room  of 
sensation  imperceptibly  to  ourselves.  And  it  seems  as 
if  all  other  associations  of  ideas  not  naturally  connect' d 
might  be  called  passive  habits;  as  properly  as  our  readi- 
ness in  understanding  languages  upon  sight,  or  hearing 
of  words.  And  our  readiness  in  speaking  and  writing 
them  is  an  instance  of  the  latter,  of  active  habits.  For 
distinctness,  we  may  consider  habits,  as  belonging  to  the 
body,  or  the  mind:  and  the  latter  will  be  explained  by 
the  former.  Under  the  former  are  comprehended  all 
bodily  activities  or  motions,  whether  graceful  or  unbe- 
coming, which  arc  owing  to  use  :  und(  r  the  latter,  gene- 
ral habits  of  lite  and  conduct ;  such  as  those  of  obedience 
and  submission  to  authority,  or  to  any  particular  person ; 
those  of  veracity,  justice,  and  charity  ;  those  of  attention, 
industry,  self-government,  envy,  revenge.  And  habits 
of  this  latter  kind  seem  produced  bv  repeated  acts,  as 
well  as  the  former.  And  in  like  manner  as  habits  be- 
longing to  the  body  are  produced  by  external  acts:  so 
habits  of  the  mind  are  produced  by  the  exertion  of  in- 
ward practical  principles;  i.  e.  by  carrVinc:  them  into  act, 
or  acting  upon  them  ;  the  principles  of  obedience,  o( 
veracity,  justice,  and  charity.    Nor  can  those  habits  be 


lis 


OF  A  STATE  OF 


fpART  1. 


formed  by  any  external  course  of  action,  otherwise  than 
as  it  proceeds  from  these  principles :  because  it  is  only 
these  inward  principles  exerted,  which  are  strictly  acts 
of  obedience,  of  veracity,  of  justice,  and  of  charity.  So 
likewise  habits  of  attention,  industry,  self-government, 
are  in  the  same  manner  acquired  by  exercise ;  and  habits 
of  envy  and  revenge  by  indulgence,  whether  in  outward 
aot,  or  in  thought  and  intention ;  2.  inward  act:  for 
such  intention  is  an  act.  Resolutions  also  to  do  well  are 
properly  acts.  And  endeavouring  to  enforce  upon  our 
own  minds  a  practical  sense  of  virtue,  or  to  beget  in 
others  that  practical  sense  of  it,  which  a  man  really  has 
himself,  is  a  virtuous  act.  All  these,  therefore,  may 
and  will  contribute  towards  forming  good  habits.  But 
going  over  the  theory  of  virtue  in  one's  thoughts,  talking 
well,  and  drawing  fine  pictures,  of  it;  this  is  so  far  from 
necessarily  or  certainly  conducing  to  form  a  habit  of  it, 
in  him  who  thus  employs  himself,  that  it  may  harden  the 
mind  in  a  contrary  course,  and  render  it  gradually  more 
insensible ;  i.  e.  form  a  habit  of  insensibility  to  all  moral 
considerations.  For,  from  our  very  faculty  of  habits, 
passive  impressions,  by  being  repeated,  grow  weaker. 
Thoughts,  by  often  passing  through  the  mind,  are  felt  less 
sensibly  :  being  accustomed  to  danger,  begets  intrepidity, 
i,  e.  lessens  fear ;  to  distress,  lessens  the  passion  of  pity ; 
to  instances  of  others'  mortality,  lessens  the  sensible  ap- 
prehension of  our  own.  And  from  these  two  observa- 
tions together ;  that  practical  habits  are  formed  and 
strengthened  by  repeated  acts,  and  that  passive  impres- 
sions grow  weaker  by  being  repeated  upon  us  ;  it  must 
follow,  that  active  habits  may  be  gradually  forming  and 
strengthening,  by  a  course  of  acting  upon  such  and  such 
motives  and  excitements,  whilst  these  motives  and  ex- 
citements themselves  are,  by  proportionable  degrees, 
growing  less  sensible ;  i.  e.  are  continually  less  and  less 
sensibly  felt,  even  as  the  active  habits  strengthen.  And 
experience  confirms  this:  for  active  principles,  at  the 
very  time  that  they  are  less  lively  in  perception  than  they 
were,  are  found  to 'be,  somehow,  wrought  more  thorough- 
ly into  the  temper  and  character,  and  become  more  eflec- 
tual  in  influencing  our  practice.    The  three  things  just 


Chap,  v.]  MORAL  DISCIPLINE.  117 

mentioned  may  Hfrord  instances  of  it.  Perception  of 
danger  is  a  natural  excitement  of  passive  fear,  and  active 
caution:  and  by  being  inured  to  danger,  habits  of  the  lat- 
ter are  gradually  wrought,  at  the  same  time  that  the  for- 
mer gradually  lessens.  Perception  of  distress  in  others 
is  a  natural  excitement,  passively  to  pity,  and  actively  to 
relieve  it :  but  let  a  man  set  himself  to  attend  to,  in- 
quire out,  and  relieve  distressed  persons,  and  he  cannot 
but  grow  less  and  less  sensibly  affected  with  the  various 
miseries  of  hfe,  with  which  he  must  become  acquainted; 
when  yet.  at  the  same  time,  benevolence,  considered  not 
as  a  passion,  but  as  a  practical  principle  of  action,  will 
strengthen  :  and  whilst  he  passively  compassionates  the 
distressed  less,  he  will  acquire  a  greater  aptitude  active- 
ly to  assist  and  befriend  them.  So  also  at  the  same  time 
that  the  daily  instances  of  men's  dying  around  us  give 
us  daily  a  less  sensible  passive  feeling  or  apprehension 
of  our  own  mortality,  such  instances  greatly  contribute 
to  the  strengthening  a  practical  regard  to  it  in  serious 
men;  ^.  e.  to  forming  a  habit  of  acting  with  a  constant 
view  to  it.  And  this  seems  again  further  to  show,  that 
passive  impressions  made  upon  our  minds  by  admonition, 
experience,  example,  though  they  may  have  a  remote 
efficacy,  and  a  very  great  one,  towards  forming  active 
habits,  yet  can  have  this  efficacy  no  otherwise  than  by 
inducing  us  to  such  a  course  of  action:  and  that  it  is  not 
being  affected  so  and  so,  but  acting,  which  forms  those 
habits:  only  it  must  be  always  remembered,  that  real 
endeavours  to  enforce  good  impressions  upon  ourselves 
are  a  species  of  virtuous  action.  Nor  do  we  know  how 
far  it  is  possible,  in  the  nature  of  things,  that  effects 
should  be  wrought  in  us  at  once,  equivalent  to  habits  ; 
7.  c.  what  is  wrought  by  use  and  exercise.  However,  the 
thing  insisted  upon  is,  nut  what  may  be  possible,  but 
what  is  in  fact  the  appointment  of  nature  :  which  is, 
that  active  habits  are  to  be  formed  by  exercise.  Their 
progress  may  be  so  gradual,  as  to  be  imperceptible  in  its 
steps :  it  may  be  hard  to  explain  the  faculty,  by  wliich 
we  are  capable  of  habits,  throughout  its  several  parts ; 
and  to  trace  it  up  to  its  original,  so  as  to  distinguish  it 
from  all  others  in  ()\ir  mind:  and  it  seems  as  if  contrary 


118  OF  A  STATE  OF  [Part I. 

effects  were  to  be  ascribed  to  it  But  the  thing  in  gene  - 
ral, that  our  nature  is  formed  to  yield,  in  some  s  ich  man- 
ner as  this,  to  use  and  exercise,  is  matter  of  certain  ex- 
perience. 

Thus,  by  accustoming  ourselves  to  any  course  of  ac- 
tion, we  get  an  aptness  to  go  on,  a  facility,  readiness,  and 
often  pleasure,  in  it.  The  inclinations  which  rendered 
us  averse  to  it  grow  weaker :  the  difficulties  in  it,  not 
only  the  imaginary  but  the  real  ones,  lessen  :  the  reasons 
for  it  offer  themselves  of  course  to  our  thoughts  upon  all 
occasions  :  and  the  least  glimpse  of  them  is  sufficient  to 
make  us  go  on,  in  a  course  of  action,  to  which  we  have 
been  accustomed.  And  practical  principles  appear  to 
grow  stronger,  absolutely  in  themselves,  by  exercise; 
as  well  as  relatively,  with  regard  to  contrary  principles  ; 
which,  by  being  accustomed  to  submit,  do  so  habitually, 
and  of  course.  And  thus  a  new  character,  in  several 
rc  spects,  may  be  formed  ;  and  many  habitudes  of  life, 
not  given  by  nature,  but  which  nature  directs  us  to  acquire. 

III.  Indeed  we  may  be  assured,  that  we  should  never 
have  had  these  capacities  of  improving  by  experience, 
acquired  knowledge,  and  habits,  had  they  not  been  ne- 
cessary, and  intended  to  be  made  use  of.  And  accord- 
ingly we  find  them  so  necessary,  and  so  much  intended, 
that  without  them  we  should  be  utterly  incapable  of  that 
which  was  the  end  for  which  we  were  made,  considered 
in  our  temporal  capacity  only  :  the  employments  and 
satisfactions  of  our  mature  state  of  life. 

Nature  does  in  nowise  quahfy  us  wholly,  much  less 
at  once,  for  this  mature  state  of  life.  Even  maturity  of 
understanding,  and  bodily  strength,  are  not  only  arrived 
to  gradually,  but  are  also  very  much  owing  to  the  con- 
tinued exercise  of  our  powers  of  body  and  mind  from 
infancy.  But  if  we  suppose  a  person  brought  into  the 
world  with  both  these  in  maturity,  as  far  as  this  is  con- 
ceivable; he  would  plainly  at  first  be  as  unqualified  for 
the  human  life  of  mature  age,  as  an  idiot.  He  would  be 
in  a  manner  distracted,  with  astonishment,  and  appre- 
hension, and  curiosity,  and  suspense:  nor  can  one  guess, 
how  long  it  would  be,  before  lie  would  be  familiarized  to 
liimself  and  the  ob'ects  about  him  enough,  even  to  set 


-Chap.  V. 


MORAL  DISCIPLINE. 


119 


himself  to  any  thing.  It  may  be  questioned  too,  whether 
the  natural  information  of  his  sight  and  hearing  would 
he  of  any  manner  of  use  at  all  to  him  in  acting,  before 
experience.  And  it  seems,  that  men  would  be  strangely 
hea-dstrong  and  self-willed,  and  disposed  to  exert  them- 
selves with  an  impetuosity,  wdiich  would  render  society 
insupportable,  and  the  living  in  it  impracticable ;  were  it 
not  for  some  acquired  moderation  and  self-government, 
some  aptitude  and  readiness  in  restraining  themselves, 
and  concealing  their  sense  of  things.  Want  of  every 
thing  of  this  kind  which  is  learnt  would  render  a  man  as 
uncapable  of  society,  as  want  of  language  would  ;  or  as 
his  natural  ignorance  of  any  of  the  particular  employ- 
ments of  life  would  render  him  uncapable  of  providing 
himself  with  the  common  conveniences,  or  supplying  the 
necessary  w^ants  of  it.  In  these  respects,  and  probably 
in  many  more  of  which  we  have  no  particular  notion, 
mankind  is  left,  by  nature,  an  unformed,  unfinished  crea- 
ture ;  utterly  deficient  and  unqualified,  before  the  ac- 
quirement of  knowledge,  experience,  and  habits,  for  that 
mature  state  of  life,  which  was  the  end  of  his  creation, 
.considering  him  as  related  only  to  this  world. 

But  then,  as  nature  has  endued  us  widi  a  power  of 
supplying  those  deficiencies,  by  acquired  knowledge,  ex- 
perience, and  habits  :  so  likewise  we  are  placed  in  a  con- 
dition, in  infancy,  childhood,  and  youth,  fitted  for  it;  fit- 
ted for  our  acquiring  those  qualifications  of  all  sorts,  which 
we  stand  in  need  of  in  mrfture  age.  Hence  children,  from 
their  very  birth,  are  daily  growing  acquainted  with  the 
objects  about  them,  with  the  scene  in  which  they  are 
placed,-  and  to  have  a  future  part ;  and  learning  some- 
what or  other,  necessary  to  the  performance  of  it.  The 
subordinations,  to  which  they  are  accustomed  in  domes- 
tic life,  teach  them  self-government  in  common  beha- 
viour abroad,  and  prepare  them  for  subjection  and  obe- 
dience to  civil  authority.  Wliat  passes  before  their  eyes, 
and  daily  happens  to  them,  ;ivjs  (horn  experience,  cau- 
tion against  treachery  and  (liccii,  'oiicthicr  with  number- 
less little  rules  of  actir.n  an  \  c  i\(hut,  wh'^h  wn  could 
not  live  without;  and  which  avc  l<'arnt  so  insensibly  and 
so  ^jcrfectly,  as  to  be  Uiisiaken  ^uM-haps  for  instinct  : 


120 


OF  A  STATE  OF 


[Part  I 


though  they  are  the  effect  of  long  experience  and  exer- 
cise ;  as  much  so  as  language,  or  knowledge  in  particu- 
lar business,  or  the  qualifications  and  behaviour  belong- 
ing to  the  several  ranks  and  professions.  Thus  the  be- 
ginning of  our  days  is  adapted  to  be,  and  is,  a  state  of 
education  in  the  theory  and  practice  of  manure  life.  We 
are  much  assisted  in  it  by  example,  instruction,  and  the 
care  of  others ;  but  a  great  deal  is  left  to  ourselves  to 
do.  And  of  this,  as  part  is  done  easily  and  of  course ;. 
so  part  requires  diligence  and  care,  the  voluntary  fore- 
going many  things  which  we  desire,  and  setting  ourselves 
to  what  we  should  have  no  inclination  to,  but  for  the 
necessity  or  expedience  of  it.  For  that  labour  and  in- 
dustry, which  the  station  of  so  many  absolutely  requires, 
they  would  be  greatly  unqualified  for,  in  maturity,  as 
those  in  other  stations  would  be  for  any  other  sorts  of 
application ;  if  both  were  not  accustomed  to  them  in  their 
youth.  And,  according  as  persons  behave  themselves, 
in  the  general  education  which  all  go  through,  and  in  the 
particular  ones  adapted  to  particular  employments;  their 
character  is  formed,  and  made  appear;  they  recommend 
themselves  more  or  less  ;  and  are  capable  of,  and  placed 
in,  different  stations  in  the  society  of  mankind. 

The  former  part  of  life,  then,  is  to  be  considered  as 
an  important  opportunity,  which  nature  puts  into  our 
hands;  and  which,  when  lost  is  not  to  be  recovered. 
And  our  being  placed  in  a  state  of  discipline  throughout 
this  life,  for  another  world,  is  a  providential  disposition 
of  things,  exactly  of  the  same  kind,  as  our  being  placed 
in  a  state  of  discipline  during  childhood,  for  mature  age. 
Our  condition  in  both  respects  is  uniform  and  of  a-piece, 
and  comprehended  under  one  and  the  same  general  law 
of  nature. 

And  if  we  were  not  able  at  all  to  discern,  how  or  in 
what  way  the  present  life  could  be  our  preparation  for 
another;  this  would  be  no  objection  against  the  credibi- 
lity of  its  being  so.  For  we  do  not  discern,  how  food  anct 
sleep  contribute  to  the  growth  of  the  body;  nor  could 
liave  any  thought  that  they  would,  before  we  had  expe- 
rience. Nor  do  children  at  all  think,  on  the  one  hand, 
that  the  sports  and  exercises,  to  which  they  are  so  much 


Chap.  V.] 


MORAL  DISCIPLINE. 


121 


addicted,  contribute  to  their  health  and  growth ;  nor,  on 
the  other,  of  liie  necessity  which  there  is  for  their  being 
restrained  in  them :  nor  are  they  capable  of  understand- 
ing the  use  of  many  parts  of  discipline,  which  neverthe- 
less they  must  be  made  to  go  through,  in  order  to  qua- 
lify  them  for  the  business  of  mature  age.  Were  we  not 
able  then  to  discover,  in  what  respects  the  present  life 
could  form  ms  for  a  future  one;  yet  nothing  would  be 
more  suppo sable  than  that  it  might,  in  some  respects  or 
other,  from  the  general  analogy  of  Providence.  And 
this,  for  ought  I  see,  might  reasonably  be  said  even 
though  we  should  not  take  in  the  consideration  of  God's 
moral  government  over  the  world.  But, 

IV.  Take  in  this  consideration,  and  consequently,  that 
the  character  of  virtue  and  piety  is  a  necessary  qualifica- 
tion for  the  future  state;  and  then  we  may  distinctly  see, 
how,  and  in  what  respects,  the  present  life  may  be  a  pre- 
paration for  it:  since  we  icant,  and  are  capable  of^  im- 
provement  in  that  character,  hy  moral  and  religious  habits; 
and  the  present  life  is  jit  to  be  a  state  of  discipline  for 
such  improvement :  in  like  manner  as  we  have  already 
observed,  how,  and  in  what  respects,  inftincy,  child- 
hood, and  youth,  are  a  necessary  preparation,  and  a  na- 
tural state  of  discipline,  for  matare  age. 

Nothing  which  we  at  present  see  would  lead  us  to  the 
thought  of  a  solitary  unactive  state  hereafter:  but,  if  we 
judge  at  all  from  the  analogy  of  nature,  we  must  suppose, 
according  to  the  Scripture  account  of  it,  that  it  will  be  a 
community.  And  thert,  is  no  shadow  of  any  thing  un- 
reasonable in  conceiving,  though  there  be  no  analogy  for 
it,  that  this  community  will  be,  as  the  Scripture  repre- 
sents it,  under  the  more  immediate,  or,  if  such  an  expres- 
sion may  be  used,  the  more  sensible  government  of  God. 
Nor  is  our  ignorance,  what  will  be  the  employments  of 
this  happy  community,  nor  our  consequent  ignorance, 
what  particular  scope  or  occasion  there  will  be  for  the 
exercise  of  veracity,  justice,  and  charity,  amongst  the 
members  of  it  with  regard  to  each  other;  any  proof,  that 
there  will  be  no  sphere  of  exercise  for  those  virtues. 
Much  less,  if  that  were  possible,  is  our  ignorance  any 
proof,  that  there  will  be  no  occasion  for  that  frame  of 


122 


OF  A  STATE  OF 


[Pakt  I. 


mind,  or  character,  which  is  formed  by  the  daily  prac- 
tice of  those  particular  virtues  here,  and  which  is  a  re- 
sult from  it.  This  at  least  must  be  owned  in  general, 
that,  as  the  government  established  in  the  universe  is  mo- 
ral, the  character  of  virtue  and  piety  must,  in  some  way 
or  other,  be  the  condition  of  our  happiness  or  the  quali- 
fication for  it. 

Now  from  what  is  above  observed,  concerning  our  na- 
tural power  of  habits,  it  is  easy  to  see,  that  we«  are  ca- 
fahle  of  moral  improvement  by  discipline.  And  how 
greatly  we  want  it,  need  not  be  proved  to  any  one  who 
is  acquainted  with  the  great  wickedness  of  mankind;  or 
even  with  those  imperfections,  whioh  the  best  are  con- 
scious of.  But  it  is  not  perhaps  distinctly  attended  to  by 
every  one,  that  the  occasion  which  human  creatures  have 
for  discipline,  to  improve  in  them  this  character  of  virtue 
and  piety,  is  to  be  traced  up  higher  than  to  excess  in  the 
passions,  by  indulgence  and  habits  of  vice.  Mankind, 
and  perhaps  all  finite  creatures,  from  the  very  constitu- 
tion of  their  nature,  before  habits  of  virtue,  are  deficient, 
and  in  danger  of  deviating  from  what  is  right;  and  there- 
fore stand  in  need  of  virtuous  habits,  for  a  security  against 
this  danger.  For,  together  with  the  general  principle  of 
moral  understanding,  we  have  in  our  inward  frame  vari- 
ous affections  towards  particular  external  objects.  These 
affections  are  naturally,  and  of  right,  subject  to  the  go- 
vernment of  the  moral  principle,  as  to  the  occasions  upon 
which  they  may  be  gratified ;  as  to  the  times,  degrees, 
and  manner,  in  which  the  objects  of  them  may  be  pur- 
sued :  but  then  the  principle  of  virtue  can  neither  excite 
them,  nor  prevent  their  being  excited.  On  the  contrary, 
they  are  naturally  felt,  when  the  objects  of  them  are  pre- 
sent to  the  mind,  not  only  before  all  consideration  whe- 
ther they  can  be  obtained  by  lawful  means,  but  after  it 
is  found  they  cannot.  For  the  natural  objects  of  affec- 
tion continue  so ;  the  necessaries,  conveniences,  and 
pleasures  of  life,  remain  naturally  desirable  ;  though  they 
cannot  be  obtained  innocently:  nay,  though  they  cannot 
possibly  be  oruained  at  all.  And  when  the  objects  of 
any  affection  wnaiever  cannot  be  obtained  without  un- 
lawful means;  but  :n?y  be  obtained  by  them  :  such  affec- 


Chap.  V. 


MORAL  DISCIPLINE. 


123 


tion,  though  its  being  excited,  and  its  continuing  some 
time  in  the  mind,  be  as  innocent  as  it  is  natural  and  ne- 
cessary; yet  cannot  but  be  conceived  to  have  a  ten- 
dency to  incUne  persons  to  venture  upon  such  unlawful 
means :  and  therefore  must  be  conceived  as  putting 
them  in  some  danger  of  it.  Now  what  is  the  general 
security  against  this  danger,  against  their  actually  deviat- 
ing from  right?  As  the  danger  is,  so  also  must  the  se- 
curity be,  from  within :  from  the  practical  principle  of 
virtue.*  And  the  strengthening  or  improving  this  prin- 
ciple, considered  as  practical,  or  as  a  principle  of  action, 
will  lessen  the  danger,  or  increase  the  security  against  it. 
And  this  moral  principle  is  capable  of  improvement,  by 
proper  discipline  and  exercise  :  by  recollecting  the  prac- 
tical impressions  which  example  and  experience  have 
made  upon  us:  and,  instead  of  following  humour  and 
mere  inclination,  by  continually  attending  to  the  equity 
and  right  of  the  case,  in  whatever  we  are  engaged,  be  it 
in  greater  or  less  matters  ;  and  accustoming  ourselves  al- 
ways to  act  upon  it;  as  being  itself  the  just  and  natural 
motive  of  action  ;  and  as  this  moral  course  of  behaviour 
must  necessarily,  vmder  the  divine  government,  be  our 
final  interest.  Thus  the  principle  of  virtue y  improved  into 
a  habit,  of  which  improvement  we  are  thus  capable,  will 
plainly  be,  in  proportion  to  the  strength  of  it,  a  aecurity 
against  the  danger  which  finite  creatures  are  in,  from  the 
very  nature  of  propension,  or  particular  affections.  This 
way  of  putting  the  matter,  supposes  particular  affections 
to  remain  in  a  future  state  ;  which  it  is  scarce  possible 
to  avoid  supposing.  And  if  they  do  ;  we  clearly  see,  that 

*  It  nmy  bp  tbousftit,  tbat  a  srnsp  of  inlrrrst  would  as  rfTrrUinlly  n'strain  crea- 
tnrps  troin  doincf  wronjj.  Jiiit  if  by  a  srn,st  of  iiiterrst  is  iiiraiiL  a  sprculalive  ro.ivic- 
tion  or  belief,  that  such  and  such  indulf^ence  woulil  occasion  then)  prejiier  nneiisi- 
iiiNs,  upon  tlie  wIujIp,  than  satisfaction  ;  it  is  contniry  lo  present  exp«  rienc»»  lo  siiy, 
that  tins  s<'nse  of  interest  is  sufficient,  to  resti-aiu  ihein  fronj  thus  indiiljjinp  ihein- 
s<'lves.  And  it  by  a  unise  of  intcrrst  is  nie;inl  a  practiad  refjard  to  what  is  niion  the 
M-hole  oin-  happiness  ;  this  is  not  only  coincident  with  the  priiuriple  of  viriu<-  or  ino- 
nd  reclitiide,  but  is  a  piirl  of  tlu'  idni  iuseif.  And  it  is  evident  this  reasonable  self- 
l«)ve  wants  to  be  iniproved,  jis  really  as  any  principle  in  our  nature.  Fur  we  tiaily 
s*'«'  it  overmatched,  not  only  by  the  more  boisterous  passions.  !)nl  by  curiosity,  shame, 
love  of  imitation,  by  any  ihinp,  even  indolence-,  espec  ally  if  the  inleresi,  liie  lem- 
]>onil  interest,  suppose,  which  is  tin*  end  of  sucIj  self  love,  !)»•  nl  n  dislnnce.  So 
fjreatly  ure  profli^nte  men  misUiken,  when  liiey  iifl'irm  tin  y  are  wholly  pt»verned  by 
uileresledness  and  self  love  ;  uuii  so  little  cause  is  there  for  morali>ts  U»  disolalm 
tilis  principle.— See  p.  108. 


124  OF  A  STATE  OF  [P^rt  I. 

acquired  habits  of  virtue  and  self-government  may  be 
necessary  for  the  regulation  of  them.  However,  though 
we  were  not  distinctly  to  take  in  this  supposition,  but  to 
speak  only  in  general ;  the  thing  really  comes  to  the 
same.  For  habits  of  virtue,  thus  acquired  by  disciphne, 
are  improvement  in  virtue :  and  improvement  in  virtue 
must  be  advancement  in  happiness,  if  the  government  of 
the  universe  be  moral 

From  these  things  we  may  observe,  and  it  will  further 
show  this  our  natural  and  original  need  of  being  improv- 
ed by  discipline,  how  it  comes  to  pass,  that  creatures 
made  upright  fall;  and  that  those  who  preserve  their 
uprightness,  by  so  doing,  raise  themselves  to  a  more 
secure  state  of  virtue.  To  say  that  the  former  is  account- 
ed for  by  the  nature  of  liberty,  is  to  say  no  more,  than 
that  an  event's  actually  happening  is  accounted  for  by  a 
mere  possibility  of  its  happening.    But  it  seems  distinct- 
ly conceivable  from  the  very  nature  of  particular  affec- 
tions or  propensions.    For,  suppose  creatures  intended 
for  such  a  particular  state  of  life,  for  which  such  propen- 
sions were  necessary:  suppose  them  endued  with  such 
propensions,  together  with  moral  understanding,  as  well 
including  a  practical  sense  of  virtue  as  a  speculative  per- 
ception of  it ;  and  that  all  these  several  principles,  both 
natural  and  moral,  forming  an  inward  constitution  of 
mind,  were  in  the  most  exact  proportion  possible ;  i.  e. 
in  a  proportion  tlie  most  exactly  adapted  to  their  intend- 
ed state  of  life  ;  such  creatures  would  be  made  upright, 
or  finitely  perfect.    Now  particular  propensions,  from 
their  very  nature,  must  be  felt,  the  objects  of  them  being 
present ;  though  they  cannot  be  gratified  at  all,  or  not 
with  the  allowance  of  the  moral  principle.    But  if  they 
can  be  gratified  without  its  allowance,  or  by  contradict- 
ing it ;  then  they  must  be  conceived  to  have  some  tend- 
ency, in  how  low  a  degree  soever,  yet  some  tendency,  to 
induce  persons  to  such  forbidden  gratification.  This 
tendency,  in  som.e  one  particular  propension,  may  be  in* 
creased,  by  the  greater  frequency  of  occasions  naturally 
exciting  it,  than  of  occasions  exciting  others.    The  least 
voluntary  indulgence  in  forbidden  circumstances,  though 
but  111  thought,  will  increase  this  wrong  tendency;  and  may 


Chap,  v.]  MORAL  DISCIPLINE.  125 

increase  it  further,  till,  peculiar  conjunctures  perhaps 
c(  nspiring,  it  becomes  effect ;  and  danger  of  deviating 
from  right,  ends  in  actual  deviation  from  it ;  a  danger 
necessarily  arising  from  the  very  nature  of  propension  ; 
and  which  therefore  could  not  have  been  prevented, 
though  it  might  have  been  escaped,  or  got  innocently 
through.  The  case  would  be,  as  if  we  were  to  suppose 
a  straight  path  marked  out  for  a  person,  in  which  such  a 
degree  of  attention  would  keep  him  steady :  but  if  he 
would  not  attend  in  this  degree,  any  one  of  a  thousand 
objects,  catching  his  eye,  might  lead  him  out  of  it.  Now 
it  is  impossible  to  say,  how  much  even  the  first  full  overt 
act  of  irregularity  might  disorder  the  inward  constitution; 
unsettle  the  adjustments,  and  alter  the  proportions,  which 
formed  it,  and  in  which  the  uprightness  of  its  make  con- 
sisted: but  repetition  of  irregularities  would  produce 
habits.  And  thus  the  constitution  would  be  spoiled  ;  and 
creatures  made  upright,  become  corrupt  and  depraved  in 
their  settled  character,  proportionably  to  their  repeated 
irregularities  in  occasional  acts.  But,  on  the  contrary, 
these  creatures  Bright  have  improved  and  raised  them- 
selves, to  a  higher  and  more  secure  state  of  virtue,  by  the 
contrary  behaviour:  by  steadily  following  the  moral 
principle,  supposed  to  be  one  part  of  their  nature  :  and 
thus  withstanding  that  unavoidable  danger  of  defection, 
which  necessarily  arose  from  propension,  the  other  part 
of  it.  For,  by  thus  preserving  their  integrity  for  some 
time,  their  danger  would  lessen ;  since  propensions,  by 
being  inured  to  submit,  would  do  it  more  easily  and  of 
course :  and  their  security  against  this  lessening  danger 
would  increase ;  since  the  moral  principle  would  gain 
additional  strength  by  exercise  :  both  which  things  are 
implied  in  the  notion  of  virtuous  habits.  Thus  then  vi- 
cious indulgence  is  not  only  criminal  in  itself,  but  also 
depraves  the  inward  constitution  and  character.  And  vir- 
tuous self-government  is  not  only  right  in  itself,  but  also 
improves  the  inward  constitution  or  character  :  and  may 
improve  it  to  such  a  degree,  that  though  we  should  sup- 
pose it  impossible  for  particular  affections  to  be  absolute- 
ly coincident  with  the  moral  principle  ;  and  consequent- 
ly should  allow,  that  such  creatures  as  have  been  above 


126  OF  A  STATE  OF  [Part  I. 

supposed,  would  for  ever  remain  defectible;  yet  their 
danger  of  actually  deviating  from  right  may  be  almost 
infinitely  lessened,  and  they  fully  fortified  against  what 
remains  of  it ;  if  that  may  be  called  danger,  against  which 
there  is  an  adequate,  effectual  security.  But  still,  this 
their  higher  perfection  may  continue  to  consist  in  habits 
of  virtue  formed  in  a  state  of  discipline,  and  this  their 
more  complete  security  remain  to  proceed  from  them. 
And  thus  it  is  plainly  conceivable,  that  creatures  without 
blemish,  as  they  came  out  of  the  hands  of  God,  may  be 
in  danger  of  going  wrong ;  and  so  may  stand  in  need  of 
the  security  of  virtuous  habits,  additional  to  the  moral 
principle  wrought  into  their  natures  by  him.  That  which 
is  the  ground  of  their  danger,  or  their  want  of  security, 
may  be  considered  as  a  deficiency  in  them,  to  which  vir- 
tuous habits  are  the  natural  supply.  And  as  they  are 
naturally  capable  of  being  raised  and  improved  by  dis- 
cipline, it  may  be  a  thmg  fit  and  requisite,  that  they 
should  be  placed  in  circumstances  with  an  eye  to  it :  in 
circumstances  peculiarly  fitted  to  be  to  them  a  state  of 
discipline  for  their  improvement  in  virtue. 

But  how  much  more  strongly  must  this  hold  with  re- 
spect to  those  who  have  corrupted  their  natures,  are 
fallen  from  their  original  rectitude,  and  whose  passions 
are  become  excessive  by  repeated  violations  of  their  in- 
ward constitution  P  Upright  creatures  may  want  to .  be 
improved:  depraved  creatures  want  to  be  renewed. 
Education  and  discipline,  which  may  be  in  all  degrees 
and  sorts  of  gentleness  and  of  severity,  are  expedient  for 
those  :  but  must  be  absolutely  necessary  fur  these.  For 
these,  discipline  of  the  severer  sort  too,  and  in  the  high- 
er degrees  of  it,  must  be  necessary,  in  order  to  wear  out 
vicious  habits;  to  recover  their  primitive  strength  of  self- 
government,  which  indulgence  must  have  weakened  ;  to 
repair,  as  well  as  raise  into  a  habit,  the  moral  principle, 
in  order  to  their  arriving  at  a  secure  state  of  virtuous 
happiness. 

Now,  whoever  will  consider  the  thing  may  clearly  see, 
that  the  present  world  is  peculiarly  jit  to  be  a  state  of 
discipline  for  this  pnr[)ose,  to  such  as  will  set  themselves 
to  mend  and  improve.  For,  the  various  temptations  with 


I 


Chap  V.J  MORAL  DISCIPLINE.  l27 

which  we  are  surrounded  ;  our  experience  of  the  deceits 
of  wickedness  ;  having  been  in  many  instances  led  wrong 
ourselves  ;  the  great  viciousness  of  the  world  ;  the  infinite 
disorders  consequent  upon  it ;  our  being  made  acquaint- 
ed with  pain  and  sorrow,  either  from  our  own  feeling  of 
it,  or  from  the  sight  of  it  in  others  ;  these  things,  though 
some  of  them  may  indeed  produce  wrong  effects  upon 
our  minds,  yet  when  duly  reflected  upon,  have,  all  of 
them,  a  direct  tendency  to  bring  us  to  a  settled  modera- 
tion and  reasonableness  of  temper :  the  contrary  both 
to  thoughtless  levity,  and  also  to  that  unrestrained 
self-will,  and  violent  bent  to  follow  present  inclina- 
tion, which  may  be  observed  in  undisciplined  minds. 
Such  experience,  as  the  present  state  affords,  of  the 
frailty  of  our  nature  ;  of  the  boundless  extravagance  of 
ungoverned  passion  ;  of  the  power  which  an  infinite 
Being  has  over  us,  by  the  various  capacities  of  miserv 
which  he  has  given  us  ;  in  short,  that  kind  and  degree 
of  experience,  which  the  present  state  affords  us,  that 
the  constitution  of  nature  is  such  as  to  admit  the  possi- 
bility, the  danger,  and  the  actual  event,  of  creatures  los- 
ing their  innocence  and  happmess,  and  becoming  vicious 
and  wretched  ;  hath  a  tendency  to  give  us  a  practical 
sense  of  things  very  different  from  a  mere  speculative 
knowledge,  that  we  are  liable  to  vice,  and  capable  of 
misery.  And  who  knows,  whether  the  security  of  crea- 
tures in  the  highest  and  most  settled  state  of  perfection, 
may  not  in  part  arise,  from  their  having  had  such  a  sense 
of  things  as  this,  formed,  and  habitually  fixed  within  them, 
in  some  state  of  probation.  And  passing  through  the 
present  world  with  that  moral  attention,  which  is  neces-  ' 
sary  to  the  acting  a  right  part  in  it,  may  leave  everlast- 
ing impressions  of  this  sort  upon  our  minds.  But  to  be 
a  little  more  distinct:  allurements  to  what  is  wrong; 
difhculties  in  the  discharge  of  our  duty  ;  our  not  being 
able  to  act  a  uniform  rijiht  part  without  some  thought  anil 
care;  and  the  opportunities  which  we  have,  or  imagine 
we  have,  of  avoiding  what  we  dislike,  or  obtaining  what 
we  desire,  by  unlawhil  means,  when  we  either  cannot 
do  it  at  all,  or  at  least  not  so  easily,  by  lawful  ones; 
these  things,  i,  e.  the  snares  and  temptations  of  vice,  are 


128 


OF  A  STATE  OF 


[Part  1. 


what  render  the  present  world  pecuharly  fit  to  be  a  state 
of  discipline,  to  those  who  will  preserve  their  integrity : 
because  they  render  being  upon  our  guard,  resolution, 
and  the  denial  of  our  passions,  necessary  in  order  to  that 
end.  And  the  exercise  of  such  particular  recollection, 
intention  of  mind,  and  self-government,  in  the  practice 
of  virtue,  has,  from  the  make  of  our  nature,  a  peculiar 
tendency  to  form  habits  of  virtue ;  as  implying,  not  only 
a  real,  but  also  a  more  continued,  and  a  more  intense 
exercise  of  the  virtuous  principle ;  or  a  more  constant 
and  a  stronger  effort  of  virtue  exerted  into  act.  Thus 
suppose  a  person  to  know  himself  to  be  in  particular 
danger,  for  some  time,  of  doing  any  thing  wrong,  which 
yet  he  fully  resolves  not  to  do :  continued  recollection, 
and  keeping  upon  his  guard,  in  order  to  make  good  his 
resolution,  is  a  continued  exerting  of  that  act  of  virtue  in 
a  high  degree,  which  need  have  been,  and  perhaps  would 
have  been,  only  instantaneous  and  weak,  had  the  tempta- 
tion been  so.  It  is  indeed  ridiculous  to  assert,  that  self- 
denial  is  essential  to  virtue  and  piety  :  but  it  would  have 
been  nearer  the  truth,  though  not  strictly  the  truth  itself, 
to  have  said,  that  it  is  essential  to  discipline  and  improve- 
ment. For  though  actions  materially  virtuous,  which 
have  no  "sort  of  difficulty,  but  are  perfectly  agreeable  to 
our  particular  inclinations,  may  possibly  be  done  only 
from  these  particular  inclinations,  and  so  may  not  be  any 
exercise  of  the  principle  of  virtue,  i.  e,  not  be  virtuous 
actions  at  all ;  yet,  on  the  contrary,  they  may  be  an  ex- 
ercise of  that  principle  :  and  when  they  are,  they  have  a 
tendency  to  form  and  fix  the  habit  of  virtue.  But  when 
the  exercise  of  the  virtuous  principle  is  more  continued, 
oftener  repeated,  and  more  intense  ;  as  it  must  be  in  cir- 
cumstances of  danger,  temptation,  and  difficulty,  of  any 
kind  and  in  any  degree ;  this  tendency  is  increased  pro- 
portionably,  and  a  more  confirmed  habit  is  the  conse- 
quence. 

This  undoubtedly  holds  to  a  certain  length  :  but  how 
far  it  may  hold,  I  know  not.    Neither  our  intellectual 
powers,  nor  our  bodily  strength  can  be  improved  beyond 
such  a  degree  :  and  both  may  be  over-wrought.    Possi-  • 
bly  there  may  be  somewhat  analogous  to  this,  with  re- 


OiAP.  v.]  MORAL  DISCIPLINE.  129 

■spect  to  the  moral  character  ;  \Yhich  is  scarce  worth  con- 
sidering. And  I  mention  it  only,  lest  it  should  come 
into  some  persons'  thoughts,  not  as  an  exception  to  the 
foregoing  observations,  which  perhaps  it  is ;  but  as  a 
confutation  of  them,  which  it  is  not.  And  there  may  be 
several  other  exceptions.  Observations  of  this  kind  can- 
not be  supposed  to  hold  minutely,  and  in  every  case.  It 
is  enough  that  they  hold  in  general.  And  these  plainly 
hold  so  far,  as  that  from  them  may  be  seen  distinctly, 
which  is  all  that  is  intended  by  them,  that  the  present 
world  is  peculiarly  jit  to  be  a  state  of  discipline,  for  our 
improvement  in  virtue  and  piety  :  in  the  same  sense  as 
some  sciences,  by  requiring  and  engaging  the  attention, 
not  to  be  sure  of  such  persons  as  will  not,  but  of  such  as 
will,  set  themselves  to  them  ;  are  fit  to  form  the  mind  to 
habits  of  attention. 

Indeed  the  present  state  is  so  far  from  proving,  in 
event,  a  discipline  of  virtue  to  the  generality  of  men,  that, 
on  the  contrary,  they  seem  to  make  it  a  discipline  of  vice. 
And  the  viciousness  of  the  world  is,  in  different  ways, 
the  great  temptation  which  renders  it  a  state  of  virtuous 
discipline,  in  the  degree  it  is,  to  good  men.  The  whole 
end,  and  the  whole  occasion,  of  mankind's  being  placed 
in  such  a  state  as  the  present,  is  not  pretended  to  be  ac- 
counted for.  That  which  appears  amidst  the  general  cor- 
ruption, is,  that  there  are  some  persons,  who,  having 
within  them  the  principle  of  amendment  and  recovery,  at- 
tend to  and  follow  the  notices  of  virtue  and  religion,  be 
they  more  clear  or  more  obscure  which  are  afforded  them; 
and  that  the  present  world  is,  not  only  an  exercise  of  vir- 
tue in  these  persons,  but  an  exercise  of  it  in  ways  and 
degrees,  peculiarly  apt  to  improve  it:  apt  to  improve  it, 
in  some  respects,  even  beyond  what  would  be,  by  the  ex- 
ercise of  it,  required  in  a  perfectly  virtuous  society,  or  in 
a  society  of  equally  imperfect  virtue  witii  themselves.  But 
that  the  present  world  docs  not  actually  become  a  state 
of  moral  discipline  to  many,  even  to  the  generality,  i.  e. 
that  they  do  not  improve  or  grow  better  in  it,  cannot  ])e 
urged  as  a  proof,  that  it  was  not  intended  for  moral  dis- 
cipline, by  any  who  at  all  observe  the  analogy  of  nature. 
For,  of  the  numerous  seeds  of  vegetables  and  bodies  of 

1 


130 


OF  A  STATE  OF 


[Pajup  I. 


animals,  which  are  adapted  and  put  in  the  way,  to  im- 
prove to  such  a  point  or  state  of  natural  maturity  and  per- 
fection, we  do  not  see  perhaps  that  one  in  a  million  actu- 
ally does.  Far  the  greatest  part  of  them  decay  before 
they  are  improved  to  it ;  and  appear  to  be  absolutely 
destroyed.  Yet  no  one,  who  does  not  deny  all  final 
causes,  will  deny,  that  those  seeds  and  bodies,  which  do 
attain  to  that  point  of  maturity  and  perfection,  answer 
the  end  for  which  they  were  really  designed  by  nature; 
and  therefore  that  nature  designed  them  for  such  perfec- 
tion. And  I  cannot  forbear  adding,  though  it  is  not  to 
the  present  purpose,  that  the  appearance  of  such  an 
amazing  waste  in  nature,  with  respect  to  these  seeds  and 
bodies,  by  foreign  causes,  is  to  us  as  unaccountable,  as, 
what  is  much  more  terrible,  the  present  and  future  ruin 
of  so  many  moral  agents  by  themselves,  i,  e.  by  vice. 

Against  this  whole  notion  of  moral  discipline,  it  may 
be  objected,  in  another  way  ;  that  so  far  as  a  course  of 
behaviour,  materially  virtuous,  proceeds  from  hope  and 
fear,  so  far  it  is  only  a  discipline  and  strengthening  of 
self-love.    But  doing  what  God  commands,  because  he 
commands  it,  is  obedience,  though  it  proceeds  from  hope 
or  fear.    And  a  course  of  such  obedience  will  form 
habits  of  it.    And  a  constant  regard  to  veracity,  justice, 
and  charity,  may  form  distinct  habits  of  these  particular 
virtues ;  and  will  certainly  form  habits  of  self-govern- 
ment, and  of  denying  our  inclinations,  whenever  veracity, 
justice,  or  charity  requires  it.    Nor  is  there  any  founda- 
tion for  this  great  nicety,  with  which  some  affect  to  dis- 
tinguish in  this  case,  in  order  to  depreciate  all  Religion 
proceeding  from  hope  or  fear.    For,  veracity,  justice,  and 
charity,  regard  to  God's  authority,  and  to  our  own  chiel 
interest,  are  not  only  all  three  coincident ;  but  each  of 
them  is,  in  itself,  a  just  and  natural  motive  or  principle 
of  action.    And  he  who  begins  a  good  life  from  any  one 
of  them,  and  perseveres  in  it,  as  he  is  already  in  some 
degree,  so  he  cannot  fail  of  becoming  more  and  more,  of 
that  character  which  is  correspondent  to  the  constitution 
of   nature  as  moral ;  and  to  the  relation  which  God 
stands  in  to  us  as  moral  governor  of  it :  nor  consequent- 
ly can  he  fail  of  obtaining  that  happiness,  which  this  con- 


Chap,  v.]  MORAL  DISCIPLINE.  131 

stitution  and  relation  necessarily  suppose  connected  with 
that  character. 

These  several  observations,  concerning  the  active 
principle  of  virtue  and  obedience  to  God's  commands, 
are  applicable  to  passive  submission  or  resignation  to  his 
will :  which  is  another  essential  part  of  a  right  character, 
connected  with  the  former,  and  very  much  in  our  power 
to  form  ourselves  to.  It  may  be  imagined,  that  nothing 
but  afflictions  can  give  occasion  for  or  require  this  vir- 
tue ;  that  it  can  have  no  respect  to,  nor  be  any  way  ne- 
cessary to  qualify  for,  a  state  of  perfect  happiness :  but 
it  is  not  experience  which  can  make  us  think  thus. 
Prosperity  itself,  whilst  any  thing  supposed  desirable  is 
not  ours,  begets  extravagant  and  unbounded  thoughts. 
Imagination  is  altogether  as  much  a  source  of  discontent, 
as  any  thing  in  our  external  condition.  It  is  indeed  true, 
that  there  can  be  no  scope  for  patience,  when  sorrow 
shall  be  no  more;  but  there  may  be  need  of  a  temper  of 
mind,  which  shall  have  been  formed  by  patience.  For, 
though  self-love,  considered  merely  as  an  active  prin- 
ciple leading  us  to  pursue  our  chief  interest,  cannot  but  be 
uniformly  coincident  with  the  principle  of  obedience  to 
God's  commands,  our  interest  being  rightly  understood  ; 
because  this  obedience,  and  the  pursuit  of  our  own  chief 
interest,  must  be  in  every  case  one  and  the  same  thing: 
yet  it  may  be  questioned,  whether  self-love,  considered 
merely  as  the  desire  of  our  own  interest  or  happiness, 
can,  from  its  nature,  be  thus  absolutely  and  uniformly 
coincident  with  the  will  of  God;  anymore  than  particu- 
lar affections  can  :*  coincident  in  such  sort,  as  not  to  be 
liable  to  be  excited  upon  occasions  and  in  degrees,  im- 
possible to  be  gratified  consistently  with  the  constitution 
of  things,  or  the  divme  appointments.  So  that  habits  of 
resignation  may,  upon  this  account,  be  requisite  for  all 
creatures  :  ha])its,  I  say  ;  which  signify  what  is  formed 
by  use.  However,  in  general  it  is  obvious  that  both 
self-love  and  particular  affection  in  human  creatures  con- 
sidered only  as  passive  feelings,  distort  and  rend  the 
mind  ;  and  tllferefore  stand  in  need  of  discipline.  Now 
denial  of  those  particular  affections,  in  a  course  of  active 

*  p.  12JJ. 
12 


132  OF  A  STATE  OF  [Part  L 

virtu 3  and  obedience  to  God's  will,  has  a  tendency  to 
moderate  ihcm ;  and  seems  also  to  have  a  tendency  to 
habituate  the  mind,  to  be  easy  and  satisfied  with  that 
degree  of  happiness  which  is  allotted  us,  i.  e.  to  moderate 
self-love.  But  the  proper  discipline  for  resignation  is 
affliction.  For  a  right  behaviour  under  that  trial ;  recol- 
lecting ourselves  so  as  to  consider  it  in  the  view,  in  which 
Religion  teaches  us  to  consider  it,  as  from  the  hand  of 
God ;  receiving  it  as  what  he  appoints,  or  thinks  proper 
to  permit,  in  his  world  and  under  his  government;  this 
will  habituate  the  mind  to  a  dutiful  submission.  And 
such  submission,  together  with  the  active  principle  of 
obedience,  make  up  the  temper  and  character  in  us, 
which  answers  to  his  sovereignty  ;  and  which  absolutely 
belongs  to  the  condition  of  our  being,  as  dependent  crea- 
tures. Nor  can  it  be  said,  that  this  is  only  breaking  the 
mind  to  a  submission  to  mere  power;  for  mere  power 
may  be  accidental,  and  precarious,  and  usurped :  but  it 
is  forming  within  ourselves  the  temper  of  resignation 
to  his  rightful  authority,  who  is,  by  nature,  supreme 
over  all. 

Upon  the  v/hole :  such  a  character,  and  such  qualifi- 
cations, are  necessary  for  a  mature  state  of  life  in  the 
present  world,  as  nature  alone  does  in  no  wise  bestow; 
but  has  put  it  upon  us,  in  great  part,  to  acquire,  in  our 
progress  from  one  stage  of  life  to  another,  from  child- 
hood to  mature  age ;  put  it  upon  us  to  acquire  them,  by 
giving  us  capacities  of  doing  it,  and  by  placing  us,  in  the 
beginning  of  life,  in  a  condition  fit  for  it.  And  this  is  a 
general  analogy  to  our  condition  in  the  present  world,  as 
in  a  state  of  moral  discipline  for  another.  It  is  in  vain 
then  to  object  against  the  credibility  of  the  present  life's 
being  intended  for  this  purpose,  that  all  the  trouble  and 
the  danger  unavoidably  accompanying  such  discipline, 
might  have  been  saved  us,  by  our  being  made  at  once 
the  creatures  and  the  characters,  which  we  vjcre  to  be. 
For  we  experience,  that  what  v)e  were  to  be,  was  to  be  the 
effect  of  what  we  would  do:  and  that  the  general  conduct 
of  nature  is,  not  to  save  us  trouble  or  Jbnger,  but  to 
make  us  capable  of  going  through  them,  and  to  put  it 
upon  us  to  do  so.    Acquirements  of  our  own,  experience 


CuAP.  V.l  TrTOT^AL  DISCIPII^TE  133 

and  habits,  are  the  national  supply  to  our  deficiencies,  and 
security  against  our  dangers  :  since  it  is  as  plainly  natu- 
ral to  set  ourselves  to  at ;o aire  the  qualifications,  as  the 
external  things,  which  we  stand  in  need  of.  In  particu- 
lar, it  is  as  plairdy  a  general  law  of  nature,  that  we  should 
with  regard  to  our  temporal  interest,  form  and  cultivate 
practical  principles  within  us,  by  attention,  use,  and  dis- 
ciphne,  as  any  thing  whatever  is  a  natural  law;  chiefly 
in  the  beginning  of  life,  but  also  throughout  the  whole 
course  of  it.  And  the  alternative  is  left  to  our  choice  : 
either  to  improve  ourselves,  and  better  our  condition ;  or, 
in  default  of  such  improvement,  to  remain  deficient  and 
wretched.  It  is  therefore  perfectly  credible,  from  the 
analogy  of  nature,  that  the  same  may  be  our  case,  with 
respect  to  the  happiness  of  a  future  state,  and  the  qualifi- 
cations necessary  for  it. 

There  is  a  third  thing,  which  may  seem  implied  in  the 
present  world's  being  a  state  of  probation ;  that  it  is  a 
theatre  of  action,  for  the  manifestation  of  persons*  cha- 
racters, with  respect  to  a  future  one :  not,  to  be  sure,  to 
an  all-knowing  Being,  but  to  his  creation  or  part  of  it. 
This  may,  perhaps,  be  only  a  consequence  of  our  being 
in  a  state  of  probation  in  the  other  senses.  However,  it 
is  not  impossible,  that  men's  showing  and  making  mani- 
fest, what  is  in  their  heart,  what  their  real  character  is, 
may  have  respect  to  a  future  life,  in  ways  and  manners 
which  we  are  not  acquainted  with:  particularly  it  may 
be  a  means,  for  the  Author  of  Nature  does  not  appear  to 
do  any  thing  without  means,  of  their  being  disposed  of 
suitably  to  their  characters;  and  of  its  being  known  to 
the  creation,  by  way  of  example,  that  they  are  thus  dis- 
posed of.  But  not  to  enter  u[  on  any  conjectural  account 
of  this;  one  may  just  mention,  that  the  manifestation  of 
persons'  characters  contributes  very  much,  in  various 
ways,  to  the  carrying  on  a  ureat  part  of  that  general 
course  of  nature,  respecting  mankind,  which  comes  under 
our  observation  at  present.  I  shall  only  add,  that  pro- 
bation, in  both  these  senses,  as  well  as  in  that  treated  of 
m  the  foregoing  chapter,  is  implied  in  moral  government ; 
since  by  persons'  behaviour  under  it,  their  characters  can- 
not but  be  manifested,  and  if  tl.ey  b  ehave  well,  improved. 


134 


OF  THE  OPINION  OF  NECESSITY, 


[Part  T. 


CHAP.  VI. 

OF  THE  OPINION  OF  NECESSITY,  CONSIDERED  AS 
INFLUENCING  PRACTICE. 

Throughout  the  foregoing  Treatise  it  appears,  that  the 
condition  of  mankind,  considered  as  inhabitants  of  this 
world  only,  and  under  the  government  of  God  which  we 
experience,  is  greatly  analogous  to  our  condition,  as  de- 
signed for  another  world,  or  under  that  farther  govern- 
ment, which  Religion  teaches  us.  If  therefore  any  assert, 
as  a  Fatalist  must,  that  the  opinion  of  universal  Necessity 
is  reconcilable  with  the  former;  there  immediately  arises 
a  question  in  the  way  of  analogy,  whether  he  must  not 
also  own  it  to  be  reconcilable  with  the  latter,  z.  e.  with 
the  system  of  Religion  itself,  and  the  proof  of  it.  The 
reader  then  will  observe,  that  the  question  now  before  us 
is  not  absolute.  Whether  the  opinion  of  Fate  be  recon- 
cilable with  Religion  ;  but  hypothetical,  whether,  upon 
supposition  of  its  being  reconcilable  with  the  constitu- 
tion of  Nature,  it  be  not  reconcilable  with  Religion  also: 
or,  what  pretence  a  Fatalist,  not  other  persons,  but  a 
Fatalist,  has  to  conclude  from  his  opinion,  that  there  can 
be  no  such  thing  as  Religion.  And  as  the  puzzle  and 
obscurity,  which  must  unavoidably  arise  from  arguing 
upon  so  absurd  a  supposition  as  that  of  universal  Neces- 
sity, will,  I  fear,  easily  be  seen  ;  it  will,  I  hope,  as  easily 
be  excused. 

But  since  it  has  been  all  along  taken  for  granted,  as  a 
thing  proved,  that  there  is  an  intelligent  AiJthor  of  Na- 
ture, or  natural  Governor  of  the  world  ;  and  since  an 
objection  may  be  made  against  the  proof  of  this,  from 
the  opinion  of  universal  Necessity,  as  it  may  be  supposed, 
that  such  Necessity  will  itself  account  for  the  origin  and 
preservation  of  all  things  :  it  is  requisite,  that  this  objec- 
tion be  distinctly  answered;  or  that  it  be  shown,  that  a 
Fatality  supposed  consistent  with  what  we  certainly  ex- 
perience, does  not  destroy  the  proof  of  an  intelligent 
Author  and  Governor  of  Nature;  before  we  proceed  to 


Chap.  VI.]  AS  INFLUENCING  PRACTICE.  135 

consider,  whetlier  it  destroys  the  proof  of  a  moral 
Governor  of  it,  or  of  our  being  in  a  state  of  Religion. 

Now,  when  it  is  said  by  a  Fatalist,  that  the  whole  con- 
stitution of  Nature,  and  the  actions  of  men,  that  every 
thing,  and  every  mode  and  circumstance  of  every  thing, 
IS  necessary,  and  could  not  possibly  have  been  otherwise; 
it  is  to  be  observed,  that  this  Necessity  does  not  exclude 
deliberation,  choice,  preference,  and  acting  from  certain 
principles,  and  to  certain  ends:  because  all  this  is  mat- 
ter of  undoubted  experience,  acknowledged  by  all,  and 
what  every  man  may,  every  moment,  be  conscious  of. 
And  from  hence  it  follows,  that  Necessity,  alone  and  of 
itself,  is  in  no  sort  an  account  of  the  constitution  of  Na- 
ture, and  how  things  came  to  he  and  to  contiime  as  they 
are;  but  only  an  account  of  this  circumstance  relating  to 
their  origin  and  continuance,  that  they  could  not  have 
been  otherwise,  than  thev  are  and  have  been.  The  as- 
sertion,  that  every  thing  is  by  Necessity  of  Nature,  is 
not  an  answer  to  the  question  ;  Whether  the  world  came 
into  being  as  it  is,  by  an  intelligent  Agent  forming  it  thus, 
or  not :  but  to  quite  another  question ;  Whether  it  came 
into  being  as  it  is,  in  that  way  and  manner  which  we 
call  necessarily,  or  in  that  way  and  manner  which  we  call 
freely.  For  suppose  farther,  that  one  who  was  a  Fata- 
list, and  one  who  kept  to  his  natural  sense  of  things, 
and  believed  himself  a  Free  Agent,  were  disputing  toge- 
ther, and  vindicating  their  respective  opinions;  and  they 
should  happen  to  instance  in  a  house :  they  would  agree 
that  it  was  built  by  an  architect.  Their  difference  con- 
cerning Necessity  and  Freedom  would  occasion  no  dif- 
ference of  judgment  concerning  this;  but  only  concerning 
another  matter ;  whether  the  architect  built  it  necessa- 
rily or  freely.  Suj)p()se  then  they  should  proceed  to  in- 
quire concerning  the  constitution  of  nature:  in  a  lax 
way  of  speakinij:,  one  of  them  might  say,  it  was  by  Ne- 
cessity; and  the  other,  by  Freedom  :  but  if  they  had  any 
meaning  to  their  words,  as  the  latter  must  mean  a  Free 
Agent,  so  the  former  must  at  length  be  n  dnced  to  mean 
an  Agent,  whether  he  would  sav  one  or  more,  acting  by 
Necessity:  for  abstract  notions  can  do  nothing.  Indeed 
we  ascribe  to  Ciod  a  nt^cobhary  existence,  uncaused  by 


1  36  OF  THE  OPINION  OF  NECESSITY,  [PartI. 

any  agent.  For  we  find  within  ourselves  the  idea  of 
infinity,  i.  e.  immensity  and  eternity,  impossible,  even  in 
imagination,  to  be  removed  out  of  being.  We  seem  to 
discern  intuitively,  that  there  must,  and  cannot  bat  be, 
somewhat,  external  to  ourselves,  answering  this  idea,  or 
the  archetype  of  it.  And  from  hence  (for  this  abstract,. 
as  much  as  any  other,  implies  a  concrete)  we  conclude, 
that  there  is,  and  cannot  but  be,  an  infinite  and  immense 
eternal  Being  existing,  prior  to  all  design  contributing  to 
his  existence,  and  exclusive  of  it.  And  from  the  scan- 
tiness of  language,  a  manner  of  speaking  has  been  intro- 
duced ;  that  Necessity  is  the  foundation,  the  reason,  the- 
account  of  the  existence  of  God.  But  it  is  not  alleged, 
nor  can  it  be  at  all  intended,  that  every  thing  exists  as  it 
does,  by  this  kind  of  Necessity;  a  Necessity  antecedent 
in  nature  to  design  :  it  cannot,  I  say,  be  meant  that  every 
thing  exists  as  it  does,  by  this  kind  of  Necessity,  upon 
several  accounts  ;  and  particularly  because  it  is  admitted, 
that  design,  in  the  actions  of  men,  contributes  to  many 
alterations  in  nature.  For  if  any  deny  this,  I  shall  not 
pretend  to  reason  with  them. 

From  these  things  it  follows ;  First,  That  when  a  Fa- 
talist asserts,  that  every  thing  is  by  Necessity,  he  must 
mean,  by  an  Agent  acting  necessarily ;  he  must,  I  say,  mean 
this,  for  I  am  very  sensible  he  would  not  choose  to  mean 
il  :  and  Secondly,  That  the  Necessity,  by  which  such  an 
Agent  is  supposed  to  act,  does  not  exclude  intelhgence 
and  design.  So  that,  were  the  system  of  Fatality  admit- 
ted, it  would  just  as  much  account  for  the  formation  of 
the  world,  as  for  the  structure  of  a  house,  and  no  more.. 
Necessity  as  much  requires  and  supposes  a  Necessary 
Agent,  as  Freedom  requires  and  supposes  a  Free  Agent, 
to  be  the  former  of  the  world.  And  the  appearances  of 
design  and  of  final  causes  in  the  constitution  of  nature  as 
really  prove  this  acting  Agent  to  be  an  intelligent  designer, 
or  to  act  from  choice;  upon  the  scheme  of  Necessity, 
supposed  possible,  as  upon  that  of  Freedom. 

It  appearing  thus,  that  the  notion  of  Necessity  does 
not  destroy  the  proof,  that  there  is  an  intelligent  Author- 
of  Nature  and  natural  Governor  of  the  world  ;  the  pre- 
sent question,  which  the  analogy  before  mentioned  sus;- 


Chap.  VI.]  AS  INFLUENCING  PRACTICE.  137 

gests,*  and  which,  T  think,  it  will  answer,  is  this:  Whether 
the  opinion  of  Necessity,  supposed  consistent  with  possi- 
bility, with  the  constitution  of  the  world,  and  the  natural 
government  which  we  experience  exercised  over  it,  de- 
stroys all  reasonable  ground  of  belief,  that  we  are  in  a 
state  of  Religion :  or  whether  that  opinion  be  reconcil- 
able with  Religion  ;  with  the  system,  and  the  proof  of  it. 

Suppose  then  a  Fatalist  to  educate  any  one,  from  his 
youth  up,  in  his  own  principles;  that  the  child  should 
reason  upon  them,  and  conclude,  that  since  he  cannot 
possibly  behave  otherwise  than  he  does,  he  is  not  a  sub- 
ject of  blame  or  commendation,  nor  can  deserve  to  be 
rewarded  or  punished :  imagine  him  to  eradicate  the  very 
perceptions  of  blame  and  commendation  out  of  his  mind, 
by  means  of  this  system  ;  to  form  his  temper,  and  cha- 
racter, and  behaviour  to  it ;  and  from  it  to  judge  of  the 
treatment  he  was  to  expect,  say,  from  reasonable  men, 
upon  his  coming  abroad  into  the  world :  as  the  Fatalist 
iudges  from  this  system,  what  he  is  to  expect  from  the 
Author  of  Nature,  and  with  regard  to  a  future  state.  I 
cannot  forbear  stopping  here  to  ask,  whether  any  one  of 
common  sense  would  think  fit,  that  a  child  should  be  put 
upon  these  speculations,  and  be  left  to  apply  them  to 
practice.  And  a  man  has  little  pretence  to  reason,  who 
is  not  sensible,  that  we  are  all  children  in  speculations  of 
this  kind.  However,  the  child  would  doubtless  be  highly 
delighted  to  find  himself  freed  from  the  restraints  of 
fear  and  shame,  with  which  his  play-fellows  were  fetter- 
ed and  embarrassed;  and  highly  conceited  in  his  supe- 
rior knowledge,  so  far  beyond  his  years.  But  conceit 
and  vanity  would  be  the  least  bad  part  of  the  influence, 
which  these  principles  must  have,  when  thus  reasoned 
and  acted  upon,  during  the  course  of  his  education.  He 
must  either  be  allowed  to  go  on  and  be  the  plague  of  all 
about  him,  and  himself  too,  even  to  his  own  destruction : 
or  else  correction  must  be  continually  made  use  of,  to 
supply  the  want  of  those  natural  perceptions  of  blame 
and  commendation,  which  we  have  supposed  to  be  re- 
moved ;  and  to  give  him  a  practical  impression,  of  what 
he  had  reasoned  himself  out  of  the  belief  of,  that  he  was 


•  r.  lai. 


138  OF  THE  OPINION  OF  NECESSITY,  [Part  I. 

in  fact  an  accountable  child,  and  to  be  punished  for 
doing  what  he  was  forbid.  It  is  therefore  in  reality  im- 
possible, but  that  the  correction  which  he  must  meet 
with,  in  the  course  of  his  education,  must  convince  him, 
that  if  the  scheme  he  was  instructed  in  were  not  false  ; 
yet  that  he  reasoned  inconclusively  upon  it,  and  some- 
how or  other  misapphed  it  to  practice  and  common  Hfe ; 
as  what  the  Fatahst  experiences  of  the  conduct  of  Pro- 
vidence at  present,  ought  in  all  reason  to  convince  him, 
that  this  scheme  is  misapphed,  when  applied  to  the  sub- 
ject of  Religion.*  But  supposing  the  child's  temper 
could  remain  still  formed  to  the  system,  and  his  expec- 
tation of  the  treatment  he  was  to  have  in  the  world  be 
regulated  by  it ;  so  as  to  expect  that  no  reasonable  man 
would  blame  or  punish  him,  for  any  thing  which  he 
should  do,  because  he  could  not  help  doing  it :  upon  this 
supposition  it  is  manifest  he  would,  upon  his  coming 
abroad  into  the  world,  be  insupportable  to  society,  and 
the  treatment  which  he  would  receive  from  it  would 
render  it  so  to  him ;  and  he  could  not  fail  of  doing  some- 
what, very  soon,  for  which  he  would  be  delivered  over 
into  the  hands  of  civil  justice.  And  thus,  in  the  end,  he 
would  be  convinced  of  the  obligations  he  was  under  to 
his  wise  instructor.  Or  suppose  this  scheme  of  Fatality, 
in  any  other  way,  applied  to  practice,  such  practical  ap- 
plication of  it  will  be  found  equally  absurd;  equally  falla- 
cious in  a  practical  sense:  for  instance,  that  if  a  man  be 
destined  to  live  such  a  time,  he  shall  live  to  it,  though 
he  take  no  care  of  his  own  preservation;  or  if  he  be 
destined  to  die  before  that  time,  no  care  can  prevent  it: 
therefore  all  care  about  preserving  one's  life  is  to  be 
neglected:  which  is  the  fallacy  instanced  in  by  the 
ancients.  But  now,  on  the  contrary,  none  of  these  prac- 
tical absurdities  can  be  drawn  from  reasoning,  upon  the 
supposition  that  we  are  free  ;  but  all  such  reasoning  with 
regard  to  the  common  affairs  of  life  is  justified  by  expe- 
rience. And  therefore,  though  it  were  admitted  that  this 
opinion  of  Necessity  were  speculatively  true;  yet,  with 
rcL^ard  to  oractice,  it  is  as  if  it  were  false,  so  far  as  our 
experience  reaches  :  that  is,  to  the  whole  of  our  present 


Chap.  VI.]  AS  INFLUENCING  PRACTICE.  139 

life.  For,  the  constitution  of  the  present  world,  and  the 
condition  in  which  we  are  actually  placed,  is,  as  if  we 
were  free.  And  it  may  perhaps  justly  be  concluded,  that 
since  the  whole  process  of  action,  through  every  step  of 
it,  suspense,  deliberation,  inclining  one  way,  determining, 
and  at  last  doing  as  we  determine,  is  as  if  we  were  free, 
therefore  we  are  so.  But  the  thing  here  insisted  upon  is, 
that  under  the  present  natural  government  of  the  world, 
we  find  we  are  treated  and  dealt  with,  as  if  we  were  free, 
prior  to  all  consideration  whether  we  are  or  not.  Were 
this  opinion  therefore  of  Necessity  admitted  to  be  ever 
so  true  ;  yet  such  is  in  fact  our  condition  and  the  natural 
course  of  things,  that  whenever  we  apply  it  to  Hfe  and 
practice,  this  application  of  it  always  misleads  us,  and 
cannot  but  mislead  us,  in  a  most  dreadful  manner,  with 
regard  to  our  present  interest.  And  how  can  people 
think  themselves  so  very  secure  then,  that  the  same 
apphcation  of  the  same  opinion  may  not  mislead  them 
also,  in  some  analogous  manner,  with  respect  to  a  future, 
a  more  general,  and  more  important  interest?  For, 
Religion  being  a  practical  subject;  and  the  analogy  of 
nature  showing  us,  that  we  have  not  faculties  to  apply 
this  opinion,  were  it  a  true  one,  to  practical  subjects; 
whenever  we  do  apply  it  to  the  subject  of  Religion,  and 
thence  conclude,  that  we  are  free  from  its  obligations,  it 
is  plain  this  conclusion  cannot  be  depended  upon.  There 
will  still  remain  just  reason  to  think,  whatever  appear- 
ances are,  that  we  deceive  ourselves;  in  somewhat  of  a 
like  manner,  as  when  people  fancy  they  can  draw  con- 
tradictory conclusions  from  the  idea  of  infinity. 

From  these  things  together,  the  attentive  reader  will 
see  it  follows,  that  if  upon  supposition  of  Freedom  the 
evidence  of  Religion  be  conclusive^  it  remains  so,  upon 
supposition  of  Necessity,  because  the  notion  of  Necessity 
is  not  apj)licable  to  practical  subjects:  i.c,  with  respect 
to  them,  is  as  if  it  were  not  true.  Nor  does  this  contain 
any  reflection  upon  reason,  but  only  upon  what  is  un- 
reasonable. For  to  pretend  to  act  uj)on  reason,  in  oppo- 
sition to  practical  princijjles,  which  the  Autiior  of  our  na- 
ture gave  us  to  act  upon;  and  to  prctenvl  to  apply  our 
reason  to  subjects,  with  regard  to  wliirh,  our  own  short 


140  OF  THE  OPINION  OF  NECESSITY,  [Part  I. 

views,  and  even  our  experience,  will  show  us,  it  cannot  be 
depended  upon ;  and  such,  at  best,  the  subject  of  Neces- 
sity must  be;  this  is  vanity,  conceit,  and  unreasonableness. 

But  this  is  not  all.  For  we  find  within  ourselves  a 
will,  and  are  conscious  of  a  character.  Now  if  this,  in 
us,  be  reconcilable  with  Fate,  it  is  reconcilable  with  it, 
in  the  Author  of  Nature.  And  besides,  natural  govern- 
ment and  final  causes  imply  a  character  and  a  will  in  the 
Governor  and  Designer;*  a  will  concerning  the  creatures 
whom  he  governs.  The  Author  of  Nature  then  being 
certainly  of  some  character  or  other,  notwithstanding 
Necessity;  it  is  evident  this  Necessity  is  as  reconcilable 
with  the  particular  character  of  benevolence,  veracity, 
and  justice,  in  him,  which  attributes  are  the  foundation  of 
Religion,  as  with  any  other  character :  since  we  find  this 
Necessity  no  more  hinders  men  from  being  benevolent, 
than  cruel ;  true,  than  faithless ;  just,  than  unjust ;  or,  if 
the  Fatalist  pleases,  what  we  call  unjust.  For  it  is  said 
indeed,  that  what,  upon  supposition  of  Freedom,  would 
be  just  punishment ;  upon  supposition  of  Necessity,  be- 
comes manifestly  unjust:  because  it  is  punishment  in- 
flicted for  doing  that  which  persons  could  not  avoid- 
doing.  As  if  the  Necessity,  which  is  supposed  to  de- 
stroy the  injustice  of  murder,  for  instance,  would  not 
also  destroy  the  injustice  of  punishing  it.  However,  as 
little  to  the  purpose  as  this  objection  is- in  itself,  it  is  very 
much  to  the  purpose  to  observe  from  it,  how  the  notions 
of  justice  and  injustice  remain,  even  whilst  we  endeavour 
to  suppose  them  removed ;  how  they  force  themselves 
upon  the  mind,  even  whilst  we  are  making  suppositions 
destructive  of  them:  for  there  is  not,  perhaps,  a  man  in 
the  world,  but  would  be  ready  to  make  this  objection  at 
first  thought. 

But  though  it  is  most  evident,  that  universal  Neces- 
sity, if  it  be  reconcilable  with  any  thing,  is  reconcilable 
with  that  character  in  the  Author  of  Nature,  which  is  the 
foundation  of  Religion;  "Yet,  does  it  not  plainly  destroy 
the  proof,  that  he  is  of  that  character,  and  consequently 

♦  Tiy  vjili  and  character  is  mrnnt  that  which,  in  *.p<'akinp^  of  mm,  we  should  ex- 
jirfss,  noL  only  by  Lh»'se  words,  l)ut  also  l)y  the  words  fen-prr,  (astc,(/ispositioHS,  prac- 
iirul  principles  :  that  u'holf^  frame  of  mind,  from  whence  we  act  in  one  manner  rather 
than  another. 


Chap.  VI.] 


AS  INFLUENCING  PRACTICE. 


141 


the  proof  of  Religion  ?"  By  no  means.  For  we  find,  that 
happiness  and  misery  are  not  our  fate,  in  any  such  sense 
as  not  to  be  the  consequences  of  our  behaviour  ;  but  that 
they  are  the  consequences  of  it*  We  find  God  exer- 
cises the  same  kind  of  government  over  us,  with  that 
which  a  father  exercises  over  his  children,  and  a  civil 
magistrate  over  his  subjects.  Now,  whatever  becomes 
of  abstract  questions  concerning  Liberty  and  Necessity, 
it  evidently  appears  to  us,  that  veracity  and  justice  must 
be  the  natural  rule  and  measure  of  exercising  this  autho- 
rity or  government,  to  a  Being  who  can  have  no  compe- 
titions, or  interfering  of  interests,  with  his  creatures  and 
his  subjects. 

But  as  the  doctrine  of  Liberty,  though  we  experience 
its  truth,  may  be  perplexed  with  difficulties,  which  run 
up  into  the  most  abstruse  of  all  speculations ;  and  as  the 
opinion  of  Necessity  seems  to  be  the  very  basis  upon 
which  infidelity  grounds  itself ;  it  may  be  of  some  use 
to  offer  a  more  particular  proof  of  the  obligations  of 
Religion,  which  may  distinctly  be  shown  not  to  be  de- 
stroyed by  this  opinion. 

The  proof  from  final  causes  of  an  intelligent  Author 
of  Nature  is  not  affected  by  the  opinion  of  Necessity  ; 
supposing  Necessity  a  thing  possible  in  itself,  and  recon- 
cilable with  the  constitution  of  things.t  And  it  is  a  mat- 
ter of  fact,  independent  on  this  or  any  other  speculation, 
that  he  governs  the  world  by  the  method  of  rewards  and 
punishments  :t  and  also  that  he  hath  given  us  a  moral 
faculty,  by  which  we  distinguish  between  actions,  and 
approve  some  as  virtuous  and  of  good  desert,  and  disap- 
prove others  as  vicious  and  of  ill  desert.§  Now  this 
moral  discernment  implies,  in  the  notion  of  it,  a  rule  of 
action,  and  a  rule  of  a  very  peculiar  kind  :  for  it  carries 
in  it  authority  and  a  right  of  direction ;  authority  in  such 
a  sense,  as  that  we  cannot  depart  from  it  without  being 
self-condemned. II  And  that  the  dictates  of  this  moral 
faculty,  which  are  by  nature  a  rule  to  us,  are  moreover 
the  laws  of  God,  laws  in  a  sense  including  sanctions ; 
may  be  thus  proved.  Consciousness  of  a  rule  or  guide  of 


*  Cluip.  ».  t  P- 134,  kc.  t  Chnp.  u. 

*  Dissert.  II.  [\  8t  rni.  2.  at  the  liolis. 


■ 


142  OF  THE  OPINION  OF  NECESSITY,  [Part  I. 

action,  in  creatures  who  are  capable  of  considering  it  as 
given  them  by  their  Maker,  not  only  raises  immediately 
a  sense  of  duty,  but  also  a  sense  of  security  in  follo'wing 
it,  and  of  danger  in  deviating  from  it.  A  direction  of 
the  Author  of  Nature,  given  to  creatures  capable  of  look- 
ing upon  it  as  such,  is  plainly  a  command  from  him  :  and 
a  command  from  him  necessarily  includes  in  it,  at  least, 
an  implicit  promise  in  case  of  obedience,  or  threatening 
in  case  of  disobedience.  But  then  the  sense  or  percep- 
tion of  good  and  ill  desert,*  which  is  contained  in  the 
moral  discernment,  renders  the  sanction  explicit,  and 
makes  it  appear,  as  one  may  say,  expressed.  For  since 
his  method  of  government  is  to  reward  and  punish 
actions,  his  having  annexed  to  some  actions  an  insepa- 
rable sense  of  good  desert,  and  to  others  of  ill,  this  surely 
amounts  to  declaring,  upon  whom  his  punishments  shall 
be  inflicted,  and  his  rewards  be  bestowed.  For  he  must 
have  given  us  this  discernment  and  sense  of  things,  as 
a  presentiment  of  what  is  to  be  hereafter:  that  is,  by 
way  of  information  beforehand,  what  we  are  finally  to 
expect  in  this  w^orld.  There  is  then  most  evident  ground 
to  think,  that  the  government  of  God,  upon  the  w^hole, 
w^ill  be  found  to  correspond  to  the  nature  which  he  has 
given  us:  and  that,  in  the  upshot  and  issue  of  things, 
happiness  and  misery  shall,  in  fact  and  event,  be  made 
to  follow  virtue  and  vice  respectively;  as  he  has  already, 
in  so  peculiar  a  manner,  associated  the  ideas  of  them  in 
our  minds.  And  from  hence  might  easily  be  deduced 
the  obligations  of  religious  worship,  were  it  only  to  be 
considered  as  a  means  of  preserving  upon  our  minds  a 
sense  of  this  moral  government  of  God,  and  securing  our 
obedience  to  it :  which  yet  is  an  extremely  imperfect 
view"  of  that  most  important  duty. 

Now,  I  say,  no  objection  from  Necessity  can  lie  against 
this  general  proof  of  Religion.  None  against  the  pro- 
position reasoned  upon,  that  we  have  such  a  moral  faculty 
and  discernment ;  because  this  is  a  mere  matter  of  fact, 
a  thing  of  experience,  that  human  kind  is  thus  (s-:)nstitut- 
ed  :  none  against  the  conclusion  ;  because  it  is  imme- 
diate and  wholly  from  this  fact.   For  the  conclusion,  that 

*  Dissert.  II. 


Chap  VI.]  AS  INFLUENCING  PRACTICE.  143 

God  will  finally  reward  the  righteous  and  punish  the 
wicked,  is  not  here  drawn,  from  its  appearing  to  us  fit* 
that  he  should  ;  but  from  its  appearing,  that  he  has  told 
us,  he  loilL  And  this  he  hath  certainly  told  us,  in  the 
promise  and  threatening,  w^hich  it  hath  been  observed 
the  notion  of  a  command  implies,  and  the  sense  of  good 
and  ill  desert  which  he  has  given  us,  more  distinctly  ex- 
presses. And  this  reasoning  from  fact  is  confirmed,  and 
in  some  degree  even  verified,  by  other  facts ;  by  the  na- 
tural tendencies  of  virtue  and  of  vice;!  and  by  this,  that 
God,  in  the  natural  course  of  his  providence,  punishes 
vicious  actions  as  mischievous  to  society  ;  and  also  vi- 
cious actions  as  such  in  the  strictest  sense. +  So  that  the 
general  proof  of  Religion  is  unanswerably  real,  even  upon 
the  wild  supposition  which  we  are  arguing  upon. 

It  must  likewise  be  observed  further,  that  natural  Re- 
ligion hath,  besides  this,  an  external  evidence  ;  which  the 
doctrine  of  Necessity,  if  it  could  be  true,  would  not  affect. 
For  suppose  a  person,  by  the  observations  and  reasoning 
above,  or  by  any  other,  convinced  of  the  truth  of  Religion ; 
that  there  is  a  God,  who  made  the  world,  who  is  the  moral 
Governor  and,  Judge  of  mankind,  and  will  upon  the  whole 
deal  with  every  one  according  to  his  works :  I  say,  sup- 
pose a  person  convinced  of  this  by  reason  ;  but  to  know 
nothing  at  all  of  antiquity,  or  the  present  state  of  man- 
kind: it  would  be  natural  for  such  a  one  to  be  inquisitive, 
what  was  the  history  of  this  system  of  doctrine  ;  at  what 
time,  and  in  what  manner,  it  came  first  into  the  world  ; 
and  whether  it  w^ere  believed  by  any  considerable  part 
of  it.    And  Avere  he  upon  inquiry  to  find,  that  a  parti- 

*  Ilowevor,  T  am  far  from  intrndinj^  to  deny,  that  the  will  of  God  is  drtrrinined, 
by  wUixi  is  fit,  by  tlu'  right  and  nasoii  of  thr  case;  tlious^li  ouv  cliooscs  to  (ltcliii«> 
niatlt'rs  of  siicli  absiracl  speculation,  and  to  speak  with  caiiLion  wlu'ii  one  does  speak 
of  Ltiem.  Hut  if  it  be  intellioihl,.  to  say,  that  it  is  Jit  and  rmsonnble  for  evfry  one  to 
consult  his  oiru  happiness,  lln  u  fit/icss  of  action,  or  the  ri^hl  ami  rvasun  of  the  rase.  \^ 
an  inLeliiori|)U.  uiaiuier  of  speakiny-.  And  it  seems  as  inroiiceivable,  to  suppose  (iod 
to  approve  oiif»  coursi"  of  action, Or  one  end,  preferably  to  anoilier,  w  iieh  yei 
actina;  at  all  trouj  desig-n  implii  s  lliat,  he  does,  wiihouL  suppo>inor  somewhat  prior  in 
that  ♦•nd,  to  be  tlie  prouini  of  the  preference  ;  as  to  sup|>os<*  him  to  discern  an  nl>- 
»tracl  proposition  to  be  true,  without  supposing^  sou. ewliat  prior  in  it,  to  be  lh«'  ground 
of  llie  discernment,  k  doth  not  therefore  appear,  that  mond  right  is  any  uu)re  re- 
h.tive  t  •  perception,  than  ubstmi't  Iruih  is  ;  or  lliat  it  in  finy  more  impr()i»er,  to  sp«-ak 
of  the  fitness  and  rijrhtness  <»f  actions  and  ends,  as  foiuiied  ui  Uic  nature  of  things, 
than  to  speak  of  al)stract  truth,  as  thus  fouuth  d. 

t  F.  X  p.  88,  &c. 


144  OF  THE  OPINION  OF  NECESSITY,  [Part  I. 

cular  person,  in  a  late  age,  first  of  all  proposed  it,  as  a 
deduction  of  reason,  and  that  mankind  were  before 
wholly  ignorant  of  it ;  then,  though  its  evidence  from 
reason  would  remain,  there  would  be  no  additional  pro- 
bability of  its  truth,  from  the  account  of  its  discovery. 
But  instead  of  this  being  the  fact  of  the  case,  on  the 
contrary,  he  would  find,  what  could  not  but  afford  him 
a  very  strong  confirmation  of  its  truth :  First,  That 
somewhat  of  this  system,  with  more  or  fewer  additions 
and  alterations,  hath  been  professed  in  all  ages  and 
countries,  of  which  we  have  any  certain  information 
relating  to  this  matter.    Secondly,  That  it  is  certain 
historical  fact,  so  far  as  w^e  can  trace  things  up,  that  this 
whole  system  of  belief,  that  there  is  one  God,  the  Creator 
and  moral  Governor  of  the  world,  and  that  mankind  is 
in  a  state  of  Religion,  was  received  in  the  first  ages. 
And  Thirdly,  That  as  there  is  no  hint  or  intimation  in 
history,  that  this  system  was  first  reasoned  out ;  so  there 
is  express  historical  or  traditional  evidence,  as  ancient 
as  history,  that  it  was  taught  first  by  revelation.  Now 
these  things  must  be  allowed  to  be  of  great  weight.  The 
first  of  them,  general  consent,  shows  this .  system  to  be 
conformable  to  the  common  sense  of  mankind.  The 
second,  namely,  that  Religion  was  believed  in  the  first 
ages  of  the  world,  especially  as  it  does  not  appear  that 
there  were  then  any  superstitious  or  false  additions  to  it, 
cannot  but  be  a  further  confirmation  of  its  truth.  For 
it  is  a  proof  of  this  alternative :  either  that  it  came  into 
the  world  by  revelation ;  or  that  it  is  natural,  obvious, 
and  forces  itself  upon  the  mind.    The  former  of  these 
is  the  conclusion  of  learned  men.    And  whoever  will 
consider,  how  unapt  for  speculation  rude  and  uncultivat- 
ed minds  are,  will,  perhaps  from  hence  alone,  be  strongly 
inclined  to  believe  it  the  truth.    And  as  it  is  shown  in 
the  Second  Part*  of  this  Treatise,  that  there  is  nothing 
of  such  peculiar  presumption  against  a  revelation  in  the 
beginning  of  the  world,  as  there  is  supposed  to  be  against 
subsequent  ones :  a  sceptic  could  not,  I  think,  give  any 
account,  which  would  appear  more  probable  even  to 
himself,  of  the  early  pretences  to  revelation;  than  by 

•  Chap.  ii. 


Chap.  VI.]  AS  INFLUENCING  PRACTICE.  ;|45 

supposing  some  real  original  one,  from  whence  they 
were  copied.  And  the  third  thing  above  mentioned, 
that  there  is  express  historical  or  traditional  evidence  as 
ancient  as  history,  of  the  system  of  Religion  being  taught 
mankind  by  revelation ;  this  must  be  admitted  as  some 
degree  of  real  proof,  that  it  was  so  taught.  For  why 
should  not  the  most  ancient  tradition  be  admitted  as 
some  additional  proof  of  a  fact,  against  which  there  is  no 
presumption  ?  And  this  proof  is  mentioned  here,  because 
it  has  its  weight  to  show,  that  Religion  came  into  the 
world  by  revelation,  prior  to  all  consideration  of  the 
proper  authority  of  any  book  supposed  to  contain  it ; 
und  even  prior  to  all  consideration,  whether  the  reve- 
lation itself  be  uncorruptly  handed  down,  and  related,  or 
-mixed  and  darkened  with  fables.  Thus  the  historical 
account,  which  we  have  of  the  origin  of  Religion,  taking 
in  all  circumstances,  is  a  real  confirmation  of  its  truth, 
no  way  affected  by  the  opinion  of  Necessity.  And  the 
external  evidence,  even  of  natural  Religion,  is  by  no 
means  inconsiderable. 

But  it  is  carefully  to  be  observed,  and  ought  to  be 
recollected  after  all  proofs  of  virtue  and  religion,  which 
are  only  general ;  that  as  speculative  reason  may  be 
neglected,  prejudiced,  and  deceived,  so  also  may  our 
moral  understanding  be  impaired  and  perverted,  and  the 
dictates  of  it  not  impartially  attended  to.  This  indeed 
proves  nothing  against  the  reality  of  our  speculative  or 
practical  faculties  of  perception ;  against  their  being 
intended  by  nature,  to  inform  us  in  the  theory  of  things, 
and  instruct  us  how  we  are  to  behave,  and  what  we  are 
to  expect  in  consequence  of  our  behaviour.  Yet  our 
liableness,  in  the  degree  we  are  liable,  to  prejudice  and 
perversion,  is  a  most  serious  admonition  to  us  to  be 
upon  our  guard,  with  respect  to  what  is  of  such  conse- 
quence, as  our  determinations  concerning  virtue  and 
religion ;  and  particularly  not  to  take  custom,  and 
fashion,  and  slight  notions  of  honour,  or  imaginations  of 
present  ease,  use,  and  convenience  to  mankind,  for  the 
only  moral  rule.* 

The  foregoing  observations,  drawn  from  the  nature  of 

♦  Dissfrt.  II. 
K 


146  OF  THE  OPINION  OF  NECESSITY,  [Part  I.. 

tlie  thing,  and  the  history  of  ReUgion,  amount,  when 
taken  together,  to  a  real  practical  proof  of  it,  not  to  be 
confuted :  such  a  proof  as,  considering  the  infinite  im- 
portance of  the  thing,  I  apprehend,  would  be  admitted 
fully  sufficient,  in  reason,  to  influence  the  actions  of  men, 
who  act  upon  thought  and  reflection  ;  if  it  were  admitted 
that  there  is  no  proof  of  the  contrary.  But  it  may  be 
said;  "There  are  m  any  probabilities,  w^hich  cannot  indeed 
be  confuted,  i.  e.  shown  to  be  no  probabilities,  and  yet 
may  be  overbalanced  by  greater  probabilities  on  the 
other  side  ;  much  more  by  demonstration.  And  there  is 
no  occasion  to  object  against  particular  arguments  alleged 
for  an  opinion,  Avhen  the  opinion  itself  maybe  clearly 
shown  to  be  false,  without  meddling  with  such  argu- 
ments at  all,  but  leaving  them  just  as  they  are.*  Now  the 
method  of  government  by  rewards  and  punishments,  and 
especially  rewarding  and  punishing  good  and  ill  desert 
as  such  respectively,  must  go  upon  supposition,  that  we 
are  Free  and  not  Necessary  Agents.  And  it  is  incredi- 
ble, that  the  Author  of  Nature  should  govern  us  upon  a 
supposition  as  true,  which  he  knows  to  be  false ;  and 
therefore  absurd  to  think,  he  will  reward  or  punish  us 
for  our  actions  hereafter ;  especially  that  he  will  do  it 
under  the  notion,  that  they  are  of  good  or  ill  desert." 
Here  then  the  matter  is  brought  to  a  point.  And  the 
answer  t?o  all  this  is  full,  and  not  to  be  evaded  ;  that 
the  whole  constitution  and  course  of  things,  the  whole 
analogy  of  providence,  shows  beyond  possibility  of  doubt, 
that  the  conclusion  from  this  reasoning  is  false  ;  wher- 
ever the  fallacy  lies.  The  doctrine  of  freedom  indeed 
clearly  shows  where :  in  supposing  ourselves  Neces- 
sary, when  in  truth  we  are  Free  Agents.  But,  upon 
the  supposition  of  Necessity,  the  fallacy  lies  in  tak- 
ing for  granted,  that  it  is  incredible  Necessary  Agents 
should  be  rewarded  and  punished.  But  that,  somehow 
or  other,  the  conclusion  now  mentioned  is  false,  is  most 
certain.  For  it  is  fact,  that  God  does  govern  even  brute 
creatures  by  the  method  of  rewards  and  punishments, 
in  the  natural  course  of  things.  And  men  are  rewarded 
and  punished  for  their  actions,  punished  for  actions 


Chap.  VI.]  AS  INFLUENCING  PRACTICE.  147 

mischievous  to  society  as  being  so,  punished  for  vicious 
actions  as  such ;  by  the  natural  instrumentahty  of  each 
other,  under  the  present  conduct  of  Providence.  Nay 
even  the  affection  of  gratitude,  and  the  passion  of  resent- 
ment, and  the  rewards  and  punishments  following  from 
them,  which  in  general  are  to  be  considered  as  natural, 
i.  e.  from  the  Author  of  Nature ;  these  rewards  and 
punishments,  being  naturally*  annexed  to  actions  con- 
sidered as  implying  good  intention  and  good  desert,  ill 
intention  and  ill  desert ;  these  natural  rewards  and 
punishments,  I  say,  are  as  much  a  contradiction  to  the 
conclusion  above,  and  show  its  falsehood,  as  a  m.ore  exact 
and  complete  rewarding  and  punishing  of  good  and  ill 
desert  as  such.  So  that  if  it  be  incredible,  that  Neces- 
sary Agents  should  be  thus  rewarded  and  punished ; 
then,  men  are  not  necessary  but  free ;  since  it  is  matter 
of  fact,  that  they  are  thus  rewarded  and  punished.  But 
if,  on  the  contrary,  which  is  the  supposition  we  have 
been  arguing  upon,  it  be  insisted,  that  men  are  Neces- 
sary Agents ;  then,  there  is  nothing  incredible  in  the 
further  supposition  of  Necessary  Agents  being  thus 
rewarded  and  punished  :  since  we  ourselves  are  thus 
dealt  w4th. 

From  the  whole  therefore  it  must  follow,  that  a  Neces- 
sity supposed  possible,  and  reconcilable  with  the  consti- 
tution of  things,  does  in  no  sort  prove  that  the  Author  oi 
Nature  w411  not,  nor  destroy  the  proof  that  he  will,  fi- 
nally and  upon  the  whole,  in  his  eternal  government, 
render  his  creatures  happy  or  miserable,  by  some  means 
or  other,  as  they  behave  well  or  ill.  Or,  to  express  this 
conclusion  in  words  conformable  to  the  title  of  the 
Chapter,  the  analogy  of  nature  shows  us,  that  the  opinion 
of  Necessity,  considered  as  practical,  is  false.  And  if 
Necessity,  upon  the  supposition  above  mentioned,  doth 
not  destroy  the  proof  of  natural  Religion,  it  evidently 
makes  no  alteration  in  the  proof  of  revealed. 

From  these  things  likewise  we  may  learn,  in  what 
sense  to  understand  that  general  assertion,  that  the 
opinion  of  Necessity  is  essentially  destructive  of  all  reli- 
gion.   First^  ia  a  practical  sense ;  that  by  this  notion, 

*  Serin.  8th,  nt  the  Rolls. 


148  THE  GOVERNMENT  OF  GOD,  [Part I. 

atheistical  men  pretend  to  satisfy  and  encourage  them- 
selves in  vice,  and  justify  to  others  their  disregard  to  all 
religion.  And  secondly,  in  the  strictest  sense ;  that  it 
is  a  contradiction  to  the  whole  constitution  of  nature, 
and  to  what  we  may  every  moment  experience  in  our- 
selves, and  so  overturns  every  thing.  But  by  no  means 
is  this  assertion  to  be  understood,  as  if  Necessity,  sup- 
posing it  could  possibly  be  reconciled  with  the  consti- 
tution of  things  and  with  what  we  experience,  were  not 
also  reconcilable  with  Religion:  for  upon  this  supposi- 
tion, it  demonstrably  is  so. 

CHAP.  VII. 

OF  THE  GOVERNMENT  OF  GOD,  CONSIDERED  AS  A  SCHEME 
OR  CONSTITUTION,  IMPERFECTLY  COMPREHENDED. 

Though  it  be,  as  it  cannot  but  be,  acknowledged,  that 
the  analogy  of  nature  gives  a  strong  credibility  to  the 
general  doctrine  of  Religion,  and  to  the  several  particu- 
lar things  contained  in  it,  considered  as  so  many  matters 
of  fact;  and  likewise  that  it  shows  this  credibility  not  to 
be  destroyed  by  any  notions  of  Necessity:  yet  still,  ob- 
jections may  be  insisted  upon,  against  the  wisdom, 
equity,  and  goodness  of  the  divine  government  implied 
in  the  notion  of  Religion,  and  against  the  method  by 
which  this  government  is  conducted;  to  which  objections 
analogy  can  be  no  direct  answer.  For  the  credibility, 
or  the  certain  truth,  of  a  matter  of  fact,  does  not  imme- 
diately prove  any  thing  concerning  the  wisdom  or  good- 
ness of  it:  and  analogy  can  do  no  more,  immediately  or 
directly,  than  show  ^uch  and  such  things  to  be  true  or 
credible,  considered  only  as  matters  of  fact.  But  still, 
if,  upon  supposition  of  a  moral  constitution  of  nature 
and  a  moral  government  over  it,  analogy  suggests  and 
makes  it  credible,  that  this  government  must  be  a 
scheme,  system,  or  constitution  of  government,  as  dis- 
tinguished from  a  number  of  single  unconnected  acts  of 
distributive  justice  and  goodness ;  and  likewise,  that  it 
must  be  a  scheme,  so  imperfectly  comprehended,  and  of 


tBAJP.  VII.] 


A  SCHEME  INCOMPREHENSIBLE. 


149 


such  a  sort  in  other  respects,  as  to  afford  a  direct  gene- 
ral answer  to  all  objections  against  the  justice  and  good- 
ness of  it:  then  analogy  is,  remotely,  of  great  service  in 
answering  those  objections  ;  both  by  suggesting  the  an- 
swer, and  showing  it  to  be  a  credible  one. 

Now  this,  upon  inquiry,  will  be  found  to  be  the  case. 
For,  First,  Upon  supposition  that  God  exercises  a  mo- 
ral government  over  the  world,  the  analogy  of  his  natural 
government  suggests  and  makes  it  credible,  that  his  moral 
government  must  be  a  scheme,  quite  beyond  our  compre- 
hension: and  this  affords  a  general  answer  to  all  objec- 
tions against  the  justice  and  goodness  of  it.  And, 
condly,  A  more  distinct  observation  of  some  particular 
things  contained  in  God's  scheme  of  natural  govern- 
ment, the  like  things  being  supposed,  by  analogy,  to  be 
contained  in  his  moral  government,  will  further  show, 
how  little  weight  is  to  be  laid  upon  these  objections. 

I.  Upon  supposition  that  God  exercises  a  moral  go- 
vernment over  the  world,  the  analogy  of  his  natural  go- 
vernment suggests  and  makes  it  credible,  that  his  moral 
government  must  be  a  scheme,  quite  beyond  our  com- 
prehension; and  this  affords  a  general  answer  to  all  ob- 
jections against  the  justice  and  goodness  of  it.  It  is 
most  obvious,  analogy  renders  it  highly  credible,  that, 
upon  supposition  of  a  moral  government,  it  must  be  a 
scheme :  for  the  world,  and  the  whole  natural  govern- 
ment of  it,  appears  to  be  so:  to  be  a  scheme,  system,  or 
constitution,  whose  parts  correspond  to  each  other,  and 
to  a  whole  ;  as  really  as  any  work  of  art,  or  as  any  par- 
ticular model  of  a  civil  constitution  and  government. 
In  this  great  scheme  of  the  natural  world,  individuals 
have  various  peculiar  relations  to  other  individuals  of 
their  own  species.  And  whole  species  are,  we  find, 
variously  related  to  other  species,  upon  this  earth.  Nor 
do  we  know,  how  much  further  these  kinds  of  relations 
may  extend.  And,  as  there  is  not  any  action  or  natural 
event,  which  we  are  acquainted  with,  so  single  and  un- 
connected, as  not  to  have  a  respect  to  some  other  ac- 
tions and  events;  so  possibly  each  of  them,  when  it  has 
not  an  immediate,  may  yet  have  a  remote,  natural  re- 
lation to  other  actions  and  event:^,  much  beyond  the 


150 


THE  GOVERNMENT  OF  GOD, 


[Part  I. 


compass  of  this  present  world.  There  seems  indeed 
nothing,  from  whence  we  can  so  much  as  make  a  conjec- 
ture, whether  all  creatures,  actions,  and  events,  through- 
out the  whole  of  nature,  have  relations  to  each  other. 
But,  as  it  is  obvious,  that  all  events  have  future  un- 
known consequences;  so  if  we  trace  any,  as  far  as  we 
can  go,  into  what  is  connected  with  it,  we  shall  find, 
that  if  such  event  were  not  connected  with  somewhat 
further  in  nature  unknown  to  us,  somewhat  both  past 
and  present,  such  event  could  not  possibly  have  been  at 
all.  Nor  can  we  give  the  whole  account  of  any  one 
thing  whatever ;  of  all  its  causes,  ends,  and  necessary  ad- 
juncts; those  adjuncts,  I  mean,  without  which  it  could 
not  have  been.  By  this  most  astonishing  connexion, 
these  reciprocal  correspondences  and  mutual  relations, 
every  thing  which  we  see  in  the  course  of  nature  is  ac- 
tually brought  about.  And  things  seemingly  the  most 
insignificant  imaginable  are  perpetually  observed  to  be 
necessary  conditions  to  other  things  of  the  greatest  im- 
portance ;  so  that  any  one  thing  whatever  may,  for  ought 
we  know  to  the  contrary,  be  a  necessary  condition  to 
any  other.  The  natural  world  then,  and  natural  govern- 
ment of  it,  being  such  an  incomprehensible  scheme ;  so 
incomprehensible,  that  a  man  must,  really  in  the  li- 
teral sense,  know  nothing  at  all,  who  is  not  sensible  of 
his  ignorance  in  it ;  this  immediately  suggests,  and 
strongly  shows  the  credibility,  that  the  moral  world  and 
government  of  it  may  be  so  too.  Indeed  the  natural 
and  moral  constitution  and  government  of  the  world  are 
so  connected,  as  to  make  up  together  but  one  scheme: 
and  it  is  highly  probable,  that  the  first  is  formed  and 
carried  on  merely  in  subserviency  to  the  latter;  as  the 
vegetable  world  is  for  the  animal,  and  organized  bodies 
for  minds.  But  the  thing  intended  here  is,  without  in- 
quiring how  far  the  administration  of  the  natural  world 
is  subordinate  to  that  of  the  moral,  only  to  observe  the 
credibility,  that  one  should  be  analogous  or  similar  to 
the  other:  that  therefore  every  act  of  divine  justice  and 
goodness  may  be  supposed  to  look  much  beyond  itself, 
and  its  immediate  object;  may  have  some  reference  to 
other  parts  of  God's  moral  administration,  and  to  a  ge- 


Chap  TII  ]  A  SCHEME  INCOMPREHENSIBLE.  151 

neral  moral  plan  ;  and  that  every  circumstance  of  this  his 
moral  government  may  be  adjusted  beforehand  with  a 
view  to  the  whole  of  it.  Thus  for  example  :  the  deter- 
mined length  of  time,  and  the  degrees  and  ways,  in 
which  virtue  is  to  remain  in  a  state  of  warfare  and  disci- 
pline, and  in  which  wickedness  is  permitted  to  have  its 
pros^ress;  the  times  appointed  for  the  execution  of  jus- 
tice; the  appointed  instruments  of  it;  the  kinds  of  re- 
wards and  punishments,  and  the  manners  of  their  distri- 
bution; all  particular  instances  of  divine  justice  and 
goodness,  and  every  circumstance  of  them,  may  have 
such  respects  to  each  other,  as  to  make  up  altogether  a 
whole,  connected  and  related  in  all  its  parts ;  a  scheme 
or  system,  which  is  as  properly  one  as  the  natural  world 
is,  and  of  the  like  kind.  And  supposing  this  to  be  the 
case;  it  is  most  evident,  that  we  are  not  competent 
judges  of  this  scheme,  from  the  small  parts  of  it  which 
come  within  our  view  in  the  present  life:  and  therefore 
no  objections  against  any  of  these  parts  can  be  insisted 
upon  by  reasonable  men. 

This  our  ignorance,  and  the  consequence  here  drawn 
from  it,  are  universally  acknowledged  upon  other  occa- 
sions; and  though  scarce  denied,  yet  are  universally  for- 
got, when  persons  come  to  argue  against  Religion.  And 
it  is  not  perhaps  easy,  even  for  the  most  reasonable  men, 
always  to  bear  in  mind  the  degree  of  our  ignorance,  and 
make  due  allowances  for  it.  Upon  these  accounts,  it 
may  not  be  useless  to  go  on  a  little  further,  in  order  to 
show  more  distinctly,  how  just  an  answer  our  ignorance 
is,  to  objections  against  the  scheme  of  Providence. 
Suppose  then  a  person  boldly  to  assert,  that  the  things 
complained  of,  the  origin  and  continuance  of  evil,  might 
ea.^ily  have  been  prevented  by  repeated  interpositions  ;* 
interpositions  so  guarded  and  circumstanced,  as  would 
prechide  all  mischief  arising  from  them  ;  or,  if  this  were 
impracticable,  that  a  scheme  of  government  is  itself  an 
imperfection;  since  more  good  might  have  been  pro- 
duced, witliout  any  scheme,  system,  or  constitution  at  all, 
by  continued  single  unrelated  acts  of  distributive  justice 
and  goodness;  because  these  would  have  occasioned  no 

♦  r.  154,  155. 


152  THE  GOVERNMENT  OF  GOD,  [Part  I,- 

irregularities.  And  farther  than  this,  it  is  presumed,  the 
objections  will  not  be  carried.  Yet  the  answer  is  obvi- 
ous: that  were  these  assertions  true,  still  the  observations 
above,  concerning  our  ignorance  in  the  scheme  of  divine 
government  and  the  consequence  drawn  from  it,  would 
hold,  in  great  measure ;  enough  to  vindicate  Religion, . 
against  all  objections  from  the  disorders  of  the  present 
state.  Were  these  assertions  true,  yet  the  government 
of  the  world  might  be  just  and  good  notwithstanding ;  for, 
at  the  most,  they  would  infer  nothing  more  than  that  it 
might  have  been  better.  But  indeed  they  are  mere 
arbitrary  assertions  ;  no  man  being  sufficiently  acquaint- 
ed with  the  possibilities  of  things,  to  bring  any  proof  of 
them  to  the  lowest  degree  of  probability.  For  however 
possible  what  is  asserted  may  seem;  yet  many  instances 
may  be  alleged,  in  things  much  less  out  of  our  reach,  of 
suppositions  absolutely  impossible,  and  reducible  to  the 
most  palpable  self-contradictions,  which,  not  every  one 
by  any  means  would  perceive  to  be  such,  nor  perhaps 
any  one  at  first  sight  suspect.  From  these  things,  it  is 
easy  to  see  distinctly,  how  our  ignorance,  as  it  is  the 
common,  is  really  a  satisfactory  answer  to  all  objections- 
against  the  justice  and  goodness  of  Providence.  If  a 
man,  contemplating  any  one  providential  dispensation, 
which  had  no  relation  to  any  others,  should  object,  that 
he  discerned  in  it  a  disregard  to  justice,  or  a  deficiency 
of  goodness ;  nothing  would  be  less  an  answer  to  such 
objection,  than  our  ignorance  in  other  parts  of  provi- 
dence, or  in  the  Possibilities  of  things,  no  way  related 
to  what  he  was  contemplating.  But  when  we  know  not 
but  the  parts  objected  against  may  be  relative  to  other 
parts  unknown  to  us;  and  when  we  are  unacquainted 
with  what  is,  in  the  nature  of  the  thing,  practicable  in 
the  case  before  us  ;  then  our  ignorance  is  a  satisfactory 
answer;  because,  some  unknown  relation,  or  some  un- 
known impossibility,  may  render  what  is  objected  against, 
just  and  good;  nay  good  in  the  highest  practicable  de- 
gree. 

II.  And  how  little  weight  is  to  be  laid  upon  such  ob- 
jections, will  further  appear,  by  a  more  distinct  observa- 
tion of  some  particular  things  contained  in  the  natural 


Chap.  V'II.]  A  SCHEME  INCOMPREHENSIBLE.  155 

government  of  God,  the  like  to  which  may  be  supposed, 
from  analogy,  to  be  contained  in  his  moral  government. 

First,  As  in  the  scheme  of  the  natural  world,  no  ends 
appear  to  be  accomphshed  without  means:  so  we  find 
that  means  very  undesirable,  often  conduce  to  bring 
about  ends  in  such  a  measure  desirable,  as  greatly  to 
overbalance  the  disagreeableness  of  the  means.  And  in 
cases  where  such  means  are  conducive  to  such  ends,  it 
is  not  reason,  but  experience,  which  shows  us,  that  they 
are  thus  conducive.  Experience  also  shows  many  means 
to  be  conducive  and  necessary  to  accomplish  ends,  which 
means,  before  experience,  we  should  have  thought,  would 
have  had  even  a  contrary  tendency.  Now  from  these 
observations  relating  to  the  natural  scheme  of  the  world, 
the  moral  being  supposed  analogous  to  it,  arises  a  great 
credibility,  that  the  putting  our  misery  in  each  other  s 
power  to  the  degree  it  is,  and  making  men  liable  to  vice 
to  the  degree  we  are  ;  and  in  general,  that  those  things 
which  are  objected  against  the  moral  scheme  of  Provi- 
dence, may  be,  upon  the  whole,  friendly  and  assistant  to 
virtue,  and  productive  of  an  overbalance  of  happiness  : 
i.  e.  the  things  objected  against  may  be  means,  by  which 
an  overbalance  of  good  will,  in  the  end,  be  found  pro- 
duced. And  from  the  same  observations,  it  appears  to 
be  no  presumption  against  this,  that  we  do  not,  if  indeed 
we  do  not,  see  those  means  to  have  any  such  tendency, 
or  that  they  seem  to  us  to  have  a  contrary  one.  Thus 
those  things,  which  we  call  irregularities,  may  not  be  so 
at  all:  because  they  may  be  means  of  accomplishing 
wise  and  good  ends  more  considerable.  And  it  may  be 
added,  as  above,  that  they  may  also  be  the  only  means^ 
by  which  these  wise  and  good  ends  are  capable  of  being 
accomplished. 

After  these  observations  it  may  be  proper  to  add,  in 
order  to  obviate  an  absurd  and  wicked  conclusion  from 
any  of  them,  that  though  the  constitution  of  our  nature, 
from  whence  we  are  capable  of  vice  and  misery,  may,  as 
it  undoubtedly  does,  contribute  to  the  perfection  and 
happiness  of  the  world;  and  though  the  actual  permission 
of  evil  may  be  beneficial  to  it :  (z.  c.  it  would  have  been 
more  mischievous,  not  that  a  wicked  person  had  himself 


154  THE  GOVERNMENT  OF  GOD,  [Part  I. 

alDstained  from  his  own  wickedness,  but  that  any  one 
had  forcibly  prevented  it,  than  that  it  was  permitted  :) 
yet  notwithstanding,  it  might  have  been  much  better  for 
the  world,  if  this  very  evil  had  never  been  done.  Nay 
it  is  most  clearly  conceivable,  that  the  very  commission 
of  wickedness  may  be  beneficial  to  the  world,  and  yet, 
that  it  would  be  infinitely  more  beneficial  for  men  to  re- 
frain from  it.  For  thus,  in  the  wise  and  good  constitu- 
tion of  the  natural  world,  there  are  disorders  which  bring 
their  own  cures;  diseases,  which  are  themselves  reme- 
dies. Many  a  man  would  have  died,  had  it  not  been  for 
the  gout  or  a  fever;  yet  it  would  be  thought  madness  to 
assert,  that  sickness  is  a  better  or  more  perfect  state  han 
health;  though  the  like,  with  regard  to  the  moral  world, 
has  been  asserted.  But, 

Secondly  J  The  natural  government  of  the  world  is  car- 
ried on  by  general  laws.  For  this  there  may  be  wise 
and  good  reasons :  the  wisest  and  best,  for  ought  we 
know  to  the  contrary.  And  that  there  are  such  reasons, 
is  suggested  to  our  thoughts  by  the  analogy  of  nature: 
by  our  being  made  to  experience  good  ends  to  be  ac- 
complished, as  indeed  all  the  good  which  we  enjoy  is 
accomplished,  by  this  means,  that  the  laws,  by  which  the 
world  is  governed,  are  general.  For  we  have  scarce  any 
kind  of  enjoyments,  but  what  we  are,  in  some  way  or 
other,  instrumental  in  procuring  ourselves,  by  acting  in 
a  manner  which  we  foresee  likely  to  procure  them :  now 
this  foresight  could  not  be  at  all,  were  not  the  govern- 
ment of  the  world  carried  on  by  general  laws.  And 
though,  for  ought  we  know  to  the  contrary,  every  single 
case  may  be,  at  length,  found  to  have  been  provided  for 
even  by  these:  yet  to  prevent  all  irregularities,  or  remedy 
them  as  they  arise,  by  the  wisest  and  best  general  laws, 
may  be  impossible  in  the  nature  of  things  ;  as  we  see  it 
is  absolutely  impossible  in  civil  government.  But  then 
we  are  ready  to  think,  that,  the  constitution  of  nature  re- 
maining  as  it  is,  and  the  course  of  things  being  permitted 
to  go  on,  in  other  respects,  as  it  does,  there  might  be 
interpositions  to  prevent  irn  gularities  ;  though  they  could 
not  have  been  prevented,  or  remedied  by  any  general 
laws.    And  there  would  inder^l  be  reason  to  wish,  which, 


Chap.  VII.]  A  SCHEME  INCOMPREHENSIBLE.  155 

bv  the  way,  is  very  different  from  a  right  to  claim,  that 
all  irregularities  were  prevented  or  remedied  by  present 
interpositions,  if  these  interpositions  would  have  no  other 
effect  than  this.  But  it  is  plain  they  would  have  some 
visible  and  immediate  bad  effects:  for  instance,  they 
would  encourage  idleness  and  negligence ;  and  they 
would  render  doubtful  the  natural  rule  of  life,  which  is 
ascertained  by  this  very  thing,  that  the  course  of  the 
world  is  carried  on  by  general  laws.  And  further,  it  is 
certain  they  would  have  distant  effects,  and  very  great 
ones  too;  by  means  of  the  wonderful  connexions  before 
mentioned.*  So  that  we  cannot  so  much  as  guess,  what 
would  be  the  whole  result  of  the  interpositions  desired. 
It  may  be  said,  any  bad  result  might  be  prevented  by 
further  interpositions,  whenever  there  was  occasion  for 
them  :  but  this  again  is  talking  quite  at  random,  and  in 
the  dark.t  Upon  the  whole  then,  we  see  wise  reasons, 
why  the  course  of  the  world  should  be  carried  on  by 
general  laws,  and  good  ends  accomplished  by  this  means: 
and  for  ought  we  know,  there  may  be  the  wisest  rea- 
sons for  it,  and  the  best  ends  accomplished  by  it.  We 
have  no  ground  to  believe,  that  all  irregularities  could  be 
remedied  as  they  arise,  or  could  have  been  precluded,  by 
general  laws.  We  find  that  interpositions  would  pro- 
duce evil,  and  prevent  good:  and,  for  ought  we  know, 
they  would  produce  greater  evil  than  they  would  prevent; 
and  prevent  greater  good  than  they  would  produce.  And 
if  this  be  the  case,  then  the  not  interposing  is  so  far  from 
being  a  ground  of  complaint,  that  it  is  an  instance  of 
goodness.  This  is  intelligible  and  sufficient :  and 
going  further,  seems  beyond  the  utmost  reach  of  our 
faculties. 

But  it  may  be  said,  that  "after  all,  these  supposed  im- 
possibilities and  relations  are  what  we  are  unacquainted 
with  ;  and  we  must  judge  of  Religion,  as  of  other  things, 
by  what  we  do  know,  and  look  upon  the  rest  as  nothing  : 
or  however,  that  the  answers  here  given  to  what  is  ob- 
jected against  Religion,  may  equally  be  made  use  of  to 
invalidate  the  proof  of  it ;  since  their  stress  lies  so  very 
much  upon  our  ignorance."  But, 

*  p.  150,  &c.  fP.  152. 


156  THE  GOVERNMENT  OF  GOD,  [Part  I. 

First  J  Though  total  ignorance  in  an)"  matter  does  in- 
deed equally  destroy,  or  rather  preclude,  all  proof  con- 
cerning it,  and  objections  against  it ;  yet  partial  igno- 
rance does  not.  For  we  may  in  any  degree  be  convinced, 
that  a  person  is  of  such  a  character,  and  consequently 
will  pursue  such  ends  ;  though  we  are  greatly  ignorant, 
what  is  the  proper  way  of  acting,  in  order  the  most 
effectually  to  obtain  those  ends :  and  in  this  case, 
objections  against  his  manner  of  acting,  as  seemingly 
not  conducive  to  obtain  them,  might  be  answered  by 
our  ignorance ;  though  the  proof  that  such  ends  were 
intended,  might  not  at  all  be  invalidated  by  it.  Thus, 
the  proof  of  Religion  is  a  proof  of  the  moral  character 
of  God,  and  consequently  that  his  government  is  moral, 
and  that  every  one  upon  the  whole  shall  receive  accord- 
ing to  his  deserts ;  a  proof  that  this  is  the  designed  end 
of  his  government.  But  we  are  not  competent  judges, 
what  is  the  proper  way  of  acting,  in  order  the  most 
effectually  to  accomplish  this  end.*  Therefore  our  ig- 
norance is  an  answer  to  objections  against  the  conduct 
of  Providence,  in  permitting  irregularities,  as  seeming 
contradictory  to  this  end.  Now,  since  it  is  so  obvious, 
that  our  ignorance  may  be  a  satisfactory  answer  to  ob- 
jections against  a  thing,  and  yet  not  affect  the  proof  of  it; 
till  it  can  be  shown,  it  is  frivolous  to  assert,  that  our  ig- 
norance invalidates  the  proof  of  Religion,  as  it  does  the 
objections  against  it. 

Secondly^  Suppose  unknown  impossibilities,  and  un- 
known relations,  might  justly  be  urged  to  invalidate  the 
proof  of  Religion,  as  well  as  to  answer  objections 
against  it :  and  that,  in  consequence  of  this,  the  proof  of 
it  were  doubtful.  Yet  still,  let  the  assertion  be  despised, 
or  let  it  be  ridiculed,  it  is  undeniably  true,  that  moral 
obligations  would  remain  certain,  though  it  were  not 
certain  what  would,  upon  the  whole,  be  the  conse- 
quences of  observing  or  violating  them.  For,  these 
obligations  arise  immediately  and  necessarily  from  the 
judgment  of  our  own  mind,  unless  perverted,  which  we 
cannot  violate  without  being  self-condemned.  And  they 
would  be  certain  too,  from  considerations  of  interest. 

*  Pp.  63,  54. 


Chap. VII.]  A  SCHEME  INCOMPREHENSIBLE.  157 

For  though  it  were  doubtful,  what  will  be  the  future  con- 
sequences of  virtue  and  vice;  yet  it  is,  however,  credible, 
that  they  may  have  those  consequences,  which  Religion 
teaches  us  they  will :  and  this  credibility  is  a  certain  * 
obligation  in  point  of  prudence,  to  abstain  from  all  wick- 
edness, and  to  live  in  the  conscientious  practice  of  all 
that  is  good.  But, 

Thirdly^  The  answers  above  given  to  the  objections 
against  Religion  cannot  equally  be  made  use  of  to  inva- 
lidate the  proof  of  it.  For,  upon  suspicion  that  God  ex- 
ercises a  moral  government  over  the  world,  analogy  does 
most  strongly  lead  us  to  conclude,  that  this  moral  govern- 
ment must  be  a  scheme,  or  constitution,  beyond  our 
comprehension.  And  a  thousand  particular  analogies 
show  us,  that  parts  of  such  a  scheme,  from  their  relation 
to  other  parts,  may  conduce  to  accomplish  ends,  which 
we  should  have  thought  they  had  no  tendency  at  all  to 
accomplish :  nay  ends,  which  before  experience,  we 
should  have  thought  such  parts  were  contradictory  to, 
and  had  a  tendency  to  prevent.  And  therefore  all  these 
analogies  show,  that  the  way  of  arguing  made  use  of  in 
objecting  against  Religion  is  delusive :  because  they 
show  it  is  not  at  all  incredible,  that,  could  we  compre- 
hend the  whole,  we  should  find  the  permission  of  the 
disorders  objected  against  to  be  consistent  with  justice 
and  goodness  ;  and  even  to  be  instances  of  them.  Now 
this  is  not  applicable  to  the  proof  of  Religion,  as  it  is  to 
the  objections  against  it;t  and  therefore  cannot  invali- 
date that  proof,  as  it  does  these  objections. 

Lastlijy  From  the  observation  now  made,  it  is  easy  to 
see,  that  the  answers  above  given  to  the  objections 
against  Providence,  though,  in  a  general  way  of  speak- 
ing, they  may  be  said  to  be  taken  from  o\ir  ignorance  ; 
yet  are  by  no  means  taken  merely  from  that,  but  from 
somewhat  which  analogy  shows  us  concerning  it.  For 
analogy  shows  us  positively,  that  our  ignorance  in  the 
possibilities  of  things,  and  the  various  relations  in  nature, 
renders  us  incompetent  judges,  and  leads  us  to  false  con- 
clusions, in  cases  similar  to  this,  in  which  we  pretend  to 
judge  and  to  object.    So  that  the  things  above  insisted 

•  P.  49,  and  Part  H.  Chap.  vi.  f  ^frm.  at  the  HoIIb  p.  312.  2d,  ed. 


158  CONCLUSION.  [Part  I, 

upon  are  not  mere  suppositions  of  unknown  impossi- 
bilities and  relations :  but  they  are  suggested  to  our 
thoughts,  and  even  forced  upon  the  observation  of  seri- 
ous men,  and  rendered  credible  too,  by  the  analogy  of 
nature.  And  therefore  to  take  these  things  into  the 
account,  is  to  judge  by  experience  and  what  we  do 
know  :  and  it  is  not  judging  so,  to  take  no  notice  of  them. 


CONCLUSION. 

The  observations  of  the  last  Chapter  lead  us  to  consider 
this  little  scene  of  human  life,  in  which  we  are  so  busily 
engaged,  as  having  a  reference,  of  some  sort  or  other,  to 
a  much  larger  plan  of  things.  Whether  we  are,  any 
way,  related  to  the  more  distant  parts  of  the  boundless 
universe,  into  which  we  are  brought,  is  altogether  uncer- 
tain. But  it  is  evident,  that  the  course  of  things,  which 
comes  within  our  view,  is  connected  with  somewhat, 
past,  present,  and  future,  beyond  it.*  So  that  we  are 
placed,  as  one  may  speak,  in  the  middle  of  a  scheme, 
not  a  fixed  but  a  progressive  one,  every  way,  incompre- 
hensible: incomprehensible,  in  a  manner  equally,  with 
respect  to  what  has  been,  what  now  is,  and  what  shall 
be  hereafter.  And  this  scheme  cannot  but  contain  in  it 
somewhat  as  wonderful,  and  as  much  beyond  our  thought 
and  conception,t  as  any  thing  in  that  of  Religion.  For, 
will  any  man  in  his  senses  say,  that  it  is  less  difficult  to 
conceive,  how  the  world  came  to  be  and  to  continue  as 
it  is,  without,  than  with,  an  intelligent  Author  and  Go- 
vernor of  it?  or,  admitting  an  intelligent  Governor  of  it, 
that  there  is  some  other  rule  of  government  more  natu- 
ral, and  of  easier  conception,  than  that  which  we  call 
moral?  Indeed,  without  an  intelligent  Author  and 
Governor  of  Nature,  no  account  at  all  can  be  given,  how 
this  universe,  or  the  part  of  it  particularly  in  which  we 
are  concerned,  came  to  be,  and  the  course  of  it  to  be 
carried  on,  as  it  is:  nor  any,  of  its  general  end  and  de- 
sign, without  a  moral  Governor  of  it.  That  there  is  an 
intelligent  Author  of  Nature,  and  natural  Governor  of 

*  p.  1-19,  &c.  +  See  Part  II.  Ch.  ii. 


CHAP.lTI.j  CONCLUSION.  159 

the  world,  i?  a.  principle  gone  upon  in  the  foregoing 
treatise;  as  proved,  and  generally  known  and  confessed 
to  be  proved.  And  the  very  notion  of  an  intelligent 
Author  of  Nature,  proved  by  particular  final  causes,  im- 
phes  a  will  and  a  character.*  Now,  as  our  Avhole  nature, 
the  nature  which  he  has  given  us,  leads  us  to  conclude 
his  will  and  character  to  be  moral,  just,  and  good:  so  we 
can  scarce  in  imagination  conceive,  what  it  can  be  other- 
wise. However,  in  consequence  of  this  his  will  and 
character,  whatever  it  be,  he  formed  the  universe  as  it 
is,  and  carries  on  the  course  of  it  as  he  does,  rather  than 
in  any  other  manner ;  and  has  assigned  to  us,  and  to  all 
living  creatures,  a  part  and  a  lot  in  it.  Irrational  crea- 
tures act  this  their  part,  and  enjoy  and  undergo  the  plea- 
sures and  the  pains  allotted  them,  without  any  reflection. 
But  one  would  think  it  impossible,  that  creatures  endued 
with  reason  could  avoid  reflecting  sometimes  upon  all 
this ;  reflecting,  if  not  from  whence  we  came,  yet,  at 
least,  whither  we  are  going;  and  what  the  mysterious 
scheme,  in  the  midst  of  which  we  find  ourselves,  will, 
at  length,  come  out  and  produce:  a  scheme  in  which  it 
is  certain  we  are  highly  interested,  and  in  which  we  may 
be  interested  even  beyond  conception.  For  many  things 
prove  it  palpably  absurd  to  conclude,  that  we  shall  cease 
to  be,  at  death.  Particular  analogies  do  most  sensibly 
show  us,  that  there  is  nothing  to  be  thought  strange,  in 
our  being  to  exist  in  another  state  of  life.  And  that  we 
are  now  living  beings,  affords  a  strong  probability  that 
we  shall  continue  so ;  unless  there  be  some  positive 
ground,  and  there  is  none  from  reason  or  analogy,  to 
think  death  will  destroy  us.  Were  a  persuasion  of  this 
kind  ever  so  well  grounded,  there  would,  surely,  be  little 
reason  to  take  pleasure  in  it.  But  indeed  it*  can  have 
no  other  ground,  than  some  such  imagination,  as  that  of 
our  gross  bodies  being  ourselves  ;  which  is  contrary  to 
experience.  Experience  too  most  clearly  shows  us  the 
folly  of  concluding,  from  the  body  and  the  living  agent 
affecting  each  other  mutually,  that  the  dissolution  of  the 
former  is  the  destruction  of  the  latter.  And  there  are 
remarkable  instances  of  their  not  affecting  each  other, 

*  p.  no. 


160  CONCLUSION.  [Part  I. 

which  lead  us  to  a  contrary  conclusion.  The  supposi- 
tion, then,  which  in  all  reason  we  are  to  go  upon,  is,  that 
our  living  nature  will  continue  after  death.  And  it  is 
infinitely  unreasonable  to  lorm  an  institution  of  life, 
or  to  act  upon  any  other  supposition.  Now  all  ex- 
pectation of  immortality,  whether  more  or  less  cer- 
tain, opens  an  unbounded  prospect  to  our  hopes  and 
our  fears:  since  we  see  the  constitution  of  nature  is  such, 
as  to  admit  of  misery,  as  well  as  to  be  productive  of 
happiness,  and  experience  ourselves  to  partake  of  both 
in  some  degree;  and  since  we  cannot  but  know,  what 
higher  degrees  of  both  we  are  capable  of.  And  there 
is  no  presumption  against  believing  further,  that  our 
future  interest  depends  upon  our  present  behaviour :  for 
we  see  our  present  interest  doth;  and  that  the  happiness 
and  misery,  which  are  naturally  annexed  to  our  actions, 
very  frequently  do  not  follow,  till  long  after  the  actions 
are  done,  to  which  they  are  respectively  annexed.  So 
that  were  speculation  to  leave  us  uncertain,  whether  it 
were  likely,  that  the  Author  of  Nature,  in  giving  happi- 
ness and  misery  to  his  creatures,  hath  regard  to  their 
actions  or  not:  yet,  since  we  find  by  experience  that  he 
hath  such  regard,  the  whole  sense  of  things  which  he 
has  given  us,  plainly  leads  us,  at  once  and  without  any 
elaborate  inquiries,  to  think,  that  it  may,  indeed  must,  be 
to  good  actions  chiefly  that  he  hath  annexed  happiness, 
and  to  bad  actions  misery;  or  that  he  will,  upon  the 
whole,  reward  those  who  do  well,  and  punish  those  who 
do  evil.  To  confirm  this  from  the  constitution  of  the 
world,  it  has  been  observed,  that  some  sort  of  moral  go- 
vernment is  necessarily  implied  in  that  natural  govern- 
ment of  God,  which  we  experience  ourselves  under ; 
that  good  and  bad  actions,  at  present,  are  naturally  re- 
warded and  punished,  not  only  as  beneficial  and  mis- 
chievous to  society,  but  also  as  virtuous  and  vicious:  and 
that  there  is,  in  the  very  nature  of  the  thing,  a  tendency 
to  their  being  rewarded  and  punished  in  a  much  higher 
degree  than  they  are  at  present.  And  though  this  high- 
er degree  of  distributive  justice,  which  nature  thus  points 
out  and  leads  towards,  is  prevented  for  a  time  from  tak- 
ing; place  ;  it  is  by  obstacles,  which  the  state  of  this  world 


CiiAp.VIL]  CONCLUSION.  161 

\inhappily  throws  in  its  way,  and  which  therefore  are  in 
their  nature  temporary.  Now,  as  these  things  in  the 
natural  conduct  of  Providence  are  observable  on  the  side 
of  virtue;  so  there  is  nothing  to  be  set  against  them  on 
the  side  of  vice.  A  moral  scheme  of  government  then 
is  visibly  established,  and,  in  some  degree,  carried  into 
execution:  and  this,  together  with  the  essential  tenden- 
cies of  virtue  and  vice  duly  considered,  naturally  raise 
in  us  an  apprehension,  that  it  will  be  carried  on  further 
towards  perfection  in  a  future  state,  and  that  every  one 
shall  there  receive  according  to  his  deserts.  And  if  this 
be  so,  then  our  future  and  general  interest,  under  the 
moral  government  of  God,  is  appointed  to  depend  upon 
our  behaviour ;  notwithstanding  the  difficulty,  which 
this  may  occasion,  of  securing  it,  and  the  danger  of  los- 
ing it :  just  in  the  same  manner  as  our  temporal  interest, 
under  his  natural  government,  is  appointed  to  depend 
-upon  our  behaviour  ;  notwithstanding  the  like  difficulty 
and  danger.  For,  from  our  original  constitution,  and 
that  of  the  world  which  we  inhabit,  we  are  naturally 
trusted  with  ourselves ;  with  our  own  conduct  and  our 
own  interest.  And  from  the  same  constitution  of  nature, 
especially  joined  with  that  course  of  things  which  is 
owing  to  men,  we  have  temptations  to  be  unfaithful  in 
this  trust ;  to  forfeit  this  interest,  to  neglect  it,  and  run 
ourselves  into  misery  and  ruin.  From  these  temptations 
arise  the  difficulties  of  behaving  so  as  to  secure  our 
temporal  interest,  and  the  hazard  of  behaving  so  as  to 
miscarry  in  it.  There  is  therefore  nothing  incredible  in 
.supposing  there  may  be  the  like  difficulty  and  hazard 
with  regard  to  that  chief  and  final  good,  which  Religion 
lays  before  us.  Indeed  the  whole  account,  how  it  came 
to  pass  that  we  were  placed  in  such  a  condition  as  this, 
must  l)c  beyond  our  comprehension.  But  it  is  in  part 
accounted  for  by  what  Religion  teaches  us,  that  the 
character  of  virtue  and  piety  must  be  a  necessary  quali- 
fication for  a  future  state  of  security  and  ha])piness, 
under  the  moral  government  of  God;  in  like  manner, 
as  some  certain  qualifications  or  other  are  necessary 
for  every  particular  condicion  of  life,  under  his  natural 
government:  and  that  the  present  state  was  intended  to 

1. 


162  CONCLUSION.  [Part  I.. 

be  a  school  of  discipline,  for  improving  in  ourselves  that 
character.     Now  this  intention  of  nature  is  rendered 
highly  credible  by  observing ;  that  we  are  plainly  made 
for  improvement  of  all  kinds  :  that  it  is  a  general  appoint- 
ment of  Providence,  that  we  cultivate  practical  principles, 
and  form  within  ourselves  habits  of  action,  in  order  to 
become  fit  for  what  we  were  wholly  unfit  for  before  :  that 
in  particular,  childhood  and  youth  is  naturally  appointed 
to  be  a  state  of  discipline  for  mature  age :  and  that  the 
present  world  is  pccuharly  fitted  for  a  state  of  moral  dis- 
cipline.   And,  A^  hereas  objections  are  urged  against  the 
whole  notion  of  moral  government  and  a  probationary 
state,  from  the  opinion  of  Necessity  ;  it  has  been  shown,. 
that  God  has  given  us  the  evidence,  as  it  were,  of  expe- 
rience, that  all  objections  against  Religion,  on  this  head,, 
are  vain  and  delusive.    He  has  also,  in  his  natural  go- 
vernment, suggested  an  answer  to  all  our  short-sighted 
objections,  against  the  equity  and  goodness  of  his  moral: 
government ;  and  in  general  he  has  exemplified  to  us 
the  latter  by  the  former. 

These  things,  v*  hich  it  is  to  be  remembered,  are  mat- 
ters of  fact,  ought,  in  all  common  sense,  to  awaken  man- 
kind; to  induce  them  to  consider  in  earnest  their  con- 
dition, and  what  they  have  to  do.  It  is  absurd,  absurd 
to  the  degree  of  being  ridiculous,  if  the  subject  were  not 
of  so  serious  a  kind,  for  men  to  think  themselves  secure 
in  a  vicious  life  ;  or  even  in  that  immoral  thoughtlessness, 
which  far  the  greatest  part  of  them  are  fallen  into.  And 
the  credibility  of  Religion,  arising  from  experience  and 
facts  here  considered,  is  fully  sufficient,  in  reason,  to 
engage  them  to  live  in  the  general  practice  of  all  virtue 
and  piety;  under  the  serious  apprehension,  though  it 
should  be  mixed  with  some  doubt,*  of  a  righteous  admin- 
istration established  in  nature,  and  a  future  judgment 
in  consequence  of  it:  especially  when  we  consider,  how 
very  qu(  stionable  it  is,  whether  any  thing  at  all  can  be 
gained  by  vice  ;t  how  unquestionably  little  as  well  as 
pn  carious,  the  pleasures  and  profits  of  it  are  at  the  best, 
and  how  soon  they  must  be  parted  with  at  the  longest^ 
For,  in  the  deliberations  of  reason,  concerning  what  we 

*  Part  U.  Ch.  vi.  i  ?.  86. 


chap.vii.j  conclusion.  163 

are  to  pursue  and  what  to  avoid,  as  temptations  to  any- 
thing from  mere  passion  are  supposed  out  of  the  case : 
so  inducements  to  vice,  from  cool  expectations  of  plea- 
sure and  interest  so  small  and  uncertain  and  short,  are 
really  so  insignificant,  as,  in  the  view  of  reason  to  be 
almost  nothing  in  themselves;  and  in  comparison  with 
the  importance  of  Religion  they  quite  disappear  and  are 
lost.  Mere  passion  indeed  may  be  alleged,  though  not 
as  a  reason,  yet  as  an  excuse,  for  a  vicious  course  of  life. 
And  how  sorry  an  excuse  it  is,  w^ill  be  manifest  by 
observing,  that  we  are  placed  in  a  condition  in  which  we 
are  unavoidably  inured  to  govern  our  passions,  by  being 
necessitated  to  govern  them :  and  to  lay  ourselves  under 
the  same  kind  of  restraints,  and  as  great  ones  too,  from 
temporal  regards,  as  virtue  and  piety,  in  the  ordinary 
course  of  things,  require.  The  plea  of  ungovernable 
passion  then,  on  the  side  of  vice,  is  the  poorest  of  all 
things;  for  it  is  no  reason,  and  but  a  poor  excuse.  But 
the  proper  motives  to  religion  are  the  proper  proofs  of 
it,  from  our  moral  nature,  from  the  presages  of  conscience, 
and  our  natural  apprehension  of  God  under  the  charac- 
ter of  a  righteous  Governor  and  Judge :  a  nature,  and 
conscience,  and  apprehension,  given  us  by  him;  and  from 
the  confirmation  of  the  dictates  of  reason,  by  life  and 
immortality  brought  to  light  by  the  Gospel;  and  the  wrath 
of  God  revealed  from  heaven  against  all  ungodliness  and 
unrighteousness  of  men. 


END  OF  THE  FIRST  PART. 


THE 


ANALOG:f  OF  RELIGION. 


PART  II. 
OF  REVEALED  RELIGION. 


CHAP  I.  ^ 
OF  THE  IMPORTANCE  OF  CHRISTIANITY. 

Some  persons,  upon  pretence  of  the  sufficiency  of  the 
light  of  nature,  avowedly  reject  all  revelation,  as,  in  its 
very  notion,  incredible,  and  what  must  be  fictitious.  And 
indeed  it  is  certain,  no  revelation  would  have  been  given, 
had  the  light  of  nature  been  sufficient  in  such  a  sense,  as 
to  render  one  not  wanting  and  useless.  But  no  man,  in 
seriousness  and  simplicity  of  mind,  can  possibly  think  it 
so,  who  considers  the  state  of  Religion  in  the  heathen 
world  before  revelation,  and  its  present  state  in  those 
places  which  have  borrowed  no  light  from  it :  particu- 
larly the  doubtfulness  of  some  of  the  greatest  men,  con- 
cerning things  of  the  utmost  importance,  as  well  as  the 
natural  inattention  and  ignorance  of  mankind  in  general. 
It  is  impossible  to  say,  who  would  have  been  able  to 
have  reasoned  out  that  whole  system,  which  we  call 
natural  Religion,  in  its  genuine  simplicity,  clear  of  super- 
stition: but  there  is  certainly  no  ground  to  affirm  that 
the  generality  could.  If  they  could,  there  is  no  sort  of 
probabihty  tliat  they  would.  Admitting  there  wore,  they 
would  highly  want  a  standing  admonition  to  remind  them 
of  it,  and  inculcate  it  upon  them. 

And  further  still,  were  they  as  much  disposed  to  attend 
to  Rehgion,  as  the  better  sort  of  men  are  ;  yet  even  upon 
this  supposition,  there  would  be  various  occasions  for 
supernatural  instruction  and  assistance,  and  the  greatest 


166  OF  THE  IMPORTANCE  [P^rt  U. 

advantages  might  be  afforded  by  them.  So  that  to  say 
revelation  is  a  thing  superfluous,  what  there  was  no  need 
of,  and  what  can  be  of  no  service,  is,  I  think,  to  talk  quite 
wildly  and  at  random.  Nor  would  it  be  more  extrava- 
gant to  affirm,  that  mankind  is  so  entirely  at  ease  in  the 
present  state,  and  life  so  completely  happy,  that  it  is  a 
contradiction  to  suppose  our  condition  capable  of  being, 
in  any  respect,  better. 

There  are  other  persons,  not  to  be  ranked  with  these, 
who  seem  to  be  getting  into  a  way  of  neglecting,  and,  as 
it  were,  overlooking  revelation,  as  of  small  importance, 
provided  natural  Religion  be  kept  to.  With  little  regard 
either  to  the  evidence  of  the  former,  or  to  the  objections 
against  it,  and  even  upon  supposition  of  its  truth;  "the 
only  design  of  it,"  say  they,  "  must  be,  to  establish  a 
belief  of  the  moral  system  of  nature,  and  to  enforce  the 
practice  of  natural  piety  and  virtue.  The  behef  and  prac- 
tice of  these  things  were,  perhaps,  much  promoted  by 
the  first  publication  of  Christianity:  but  whether  they 
are  believed  and  practised,  upon  the  evidence  and  mo- 
tives of  nature  or  of  revelation,  is  no  great  matter."* 
This  way  of  considering  revelation,  though  it  is  not  the 
same  with  the  former,  yet  borders  nearly  upon  it,  and 
very  much,  at  length,  runs  up  into  it :  and  requires  to  be 
particularly  considered,  with  regard  to  the  persons  who 
seem  to  be  getting  into  this  way.  The  consideration  of 
it  will  likewise  further  show  the  extravagance  of  the  for- 
mer opinion,  and  the  truth  of  the  observations  in  answer 
to  it,  just  mentioned.  And  an  inquiry  into  the  Impor- 
tance of  Christianity,  cannot  be  an  improper  introduc- 
tion to  a  treatise  concerning  the  credibihty  of  it. 

Now  if  God  has  given  a  revelation  to  mankind,  and 
commanded  those  things  which  are  commanded  in  Chris- 
tianity ;  it  is  evident,  at  first  sight,  that  it  cannot  in  any 
wise  be  an  indifferent  matter,  whether  we  obey  or  dis- 
obey those  commands  :  unless  we  are  certainly  assured, 

*  Tnvenis  multos   proptrrrn  iiolU-  fieri  Cliristianos,  quia  quasi  sufliciunt  sibi 

dp  bona  Vila  SUM.  Bnie  vi\ rn*  ojnis  <  st ,  siiL.  (^uid  mihi  prapc»'plurus  t  st  Christus  ? 
Ut  b<'ii«'  vivaui?  Jam  bcup  vivo,  (^uid  niilii  iipcessarius  t'sL  CJiristiis ;  nullum 
lion  iciiiiiiiii,  iiuiluni  furluni,  luillam  ra|iiiiain  facio,  res  aiienas  iion  coiunipisco,  nullo 
adukeno  containiiioi' ?  ISain  iiivniialur  in  vita  nu-a  aliquid  tjuod  reprebeiidatur,  et 
qui  leprehendrrii  faciat  ClirisLianuni.    ^lug.  in  Psai.  xxJcTi. 


Chaf.  I.]  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  167 

that  we  know  all  the  reasons  for  them,  and  that  all 
those  reasons  are  now  ceased,  with  regard  to  mankind 
in  general,  or  to  ourselves  in  particular.  And  it  is  ab- 
solutely impossible  we  can  be  assured  of  this.  For  our 
ignorance  of  these  reasons  proves  nothing  in  the  case  : 
since  the  whole  analogy  of  nature  shows,  what  is  indeed 
in  itself  evident,  that  there  may  be  infinite  reasons  for 
things,  with  which  we  are  not  acquainted. 

But  the  importance  of  Christianity  will  more  distinctly 
appear,  by  considering  it  more  distinctly :  First,  as  a  re- 
publication, and  external  institution,  of  natural  or  es- 
sential Religion,  adapted  to  the  present  circumstances 
of  mankind,  and  intended  to  promote  natural  piety  and 
virtue :  and  Secondly,  as  containing  an  account  of  a 
dispensation  of  things,  not  discoverable  by  reason,  in 
consequence  of  which  several  distinct  precepts  are  en- 
joined us.  For  though  natural  Religion  is  the  founda- 
tion and  principal  part  of  Christianity,  it  is  not  in  any 
sense  the  whole  of  it. 

I.  Christianity  is  a  republication  of  natural  Religion. 
It  instructs  mankind  in  the  moral  system  of  the  world  : 
that  it  is  the  work  of  an  infinitely  perfect  Being,  and 
undt  r  his  government ;  that  virtue  is  his  law  ;  and  that 
he  will  finally  judge  mankind  in  righteousness,  and 
render  to  all  according  to  their  works,  in  a  future  state. 
And,  which  is  very  material,  it  teaches  natural  Religion 
in  its  genuine  simplicity  ;  free  from  those  superstitions, 
with  which  it  was  totally  corrupted,  and  under  whicji  it 
was  in  a  manner  lost. 

Revelation  is,  further,  an  authoritative  publication  of 
natural  Religion,  and  so  affords  the  evidence  of  testi- 
mony for  the  truth  of  it.  Indeed  the  miracles  and 
])r()phecies  recorded  in  Scripture,  were  intended  to 
prove  a  particular  dispensation  of  Providence,  the  re- 
demption of  the  world  by  the  Messiah:  but  this  dots 
not  hinder,  but  that  they  may  also  prove  God's  general 
providence  over  the  world,  as  our  moral  Governor  and 
Judge.  And  they  evid  ntly  do  prove  it;  because  this 
character  of  the  Author  of  Nature,  is  necessarily  con- 
nected with  and  im[)lied  in  that  ])ariicular  revealed 
dispensation  of  things  :  it  is  likewise  coiUinually  taught 


168  OF  THE  IMPORTANCE  [Part  IL 

expressly,  and  insisted  upon,  by  those  persons  who 
wrought  the  miracles  and  delivered  the  prophecies.  So 
that  indeed  natural  Religion  seems  as  much  proved  by 
the  Scripture  revelation,  as  it  would  have  been,  had  the 
design  of  revelation  been  nothing  else  than  to  prove  it. 

But  it  may  possibly  be  disputed,  how  far  miracles  can 
prove  natural  Religion;  and  notable  objections  may  be 
urged  against  this  proof  of  it,  considered  as  a  matter  of- 
speculation :  but  considered  as  a  practical  thing,  there 
can  be  none.  For  suppose  a  person  to  teach  natural 
Religion  to  a  nation,  who  had  lived  in  total  ignorance  or 
forgetfulness  of  it ;  and  to  declare  he  was  commissioned 
by  God  so  to  do :  suppose  him,  in  proof  of  his  commis- 
sion, to  foretell  things  future,  which  no  human  foresight 
could  have  guessed  at ;  to  divide  the  sea  with  a  word ;. 
feed  great  multitudes  with  bread  from  heaven  ;  cure  all 
manner  of  diseases ;  and  raise  the  dead,  even  himself,  to 
life ;  would  not  this  give  additional  credibility  to  his 
teaching,  a  credibility  beyond  what  that  of  a  common 
man  would  have  ;  and  be  an  authoritative  publication  of 
the  law  of  nature,  i.  e.  a  new  proof  of  it.^^  It  would  be  a 
practical  one,  of  the  strongest  kind,  perhaps,  which 
human  creatures  are  capable  of  having  given  them. 
The  Law  of  Moses  then,  and  the  Gospel  of  Christ,  are 
authoritative  publications  of  the  religion  of  nature;  they 
afforda  proof  of  God'sgeneral  providence,  as  moral  Gover- 
nor of  the  world,  as  well  as  of  his  particular  dispensations  of 
providence  towards  sinful  creatures,  revealed  in  the  Law 
and  the  Gospel.  As  they  are  the  only  evidence  of  the 
latter,  so  they  are  an  additional  evidence  of  the  former. 

To  show  this  further,  let  us  suppose  a  man  of  the 
greatest  and  most  improved  capacity,  who  had  never 
heard  of  revelation,  convinced  upon  tiie  whole,  notwith- 
standing the  disorders  of  the  world,  that  it  was  under 
the  direction  and  moral  government  of  an  infinitely 
perfect  Being ;  but  ready  to  question,  whether  he  were 
not  got  beyond  the  reach  of  his  faculties :  suppose  him 
brought,  by  this  suspicion,  into  great  danger  of  being 
carried  away  by  the  universal  bad  example  of  almost  every 
one  around  him,  who  appeared  to  have  no  sense,  no  prac- 
tical sense  at  least,  of  these  things:  and  this,  perhaps, . 


Chap.  L]  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  169 

would  be  as  advantageous  a  situation  with  regard  ta 
Religion,  as  nature  alone  ever  placed  any  man  in. 
What  a  confirmation  now  must  it  be  to  such  a  person^ 
all  at  once,  to  find,  that  this  moral  system  of  things  was 
revealed  to  mankind,  in  the  name  of  that  infinite  Being, 
whom  he  had  from  principles  of  reason  believed  in  :  and 
that  the  publishers  of  the  revelation  proved  their  com- 
mission from  him,  by  making  it  appear,  that  he  had 
entrusted  them  with  a  power  of  suspending  and  chang- 
ing the  general  laws  of  nature.* 

Nor  must  it  by  any  means  be  omitted,  for  it  is  a  thing 
of  the  utmost  importance,  that  life  and  immortahty  are 
eminently  brought  to  light  by  the  Gospel.  The  great 
doctrines  of  a  future  state,  the  danger  of  a  course  of 
wickedness,  and  the  efficacy  of  repentance,  are  not  only 
confirmed  in  the  Gospel,  but  are  taught,  especially  the 
last  is,  with  a  degree  of  light,  to  which  that  of  nature  is 
but  darkness. 

Further:  As  Christianity  served  these  ends  and  pur- 
poses, when  it  was  first  published,  by  the  miraculous 
publication  itself ;  so  it  was  intended  to  serve  the  same 
purposes  in  future  ages,  by  means  of  the  settlement  of  a 
visible  church :  of  a  society,  distinguished  from  common 
ones,  and  from  the  rest  of  the  world,  by  peculiar  reli- 
gious institutions;  by  an  instituted  method  of  instruction, 
and  an  instituted  form  of  extc  rnal  Religion.  Miraculous 
powers  were  given  to  the  first  preachers  of  Christianity, 
in  ord(  r  to  their  introducing  it  into  the  world  :  a  visible 
church  was  established,  in  order  to  continue  it,  and  carry 
it  on  successively  throughout  all  ages.  Had  Moses  and 
the  Prophets,  Christ  and  his  Apostles,  only  taught,  and 
by  miracles  proved,  Religion  to  their  contemporaries  ; 
the  benefits  of  their  instructions  would  have  reached  but 
to  a  small  part  of  mankind.  Christianity  must  have  been, 
in  a  great  degree,  sunk  and  forgot  in  a  very  few  ages. 
To  prevent  this,  appears  to  have  been  one  reason  why 
a  visible  church  was  instituted  :  to  be,  like  a  city  upon 
a  hill,  a  standing  memorial  to  the  world  of  the  duly 
wliich  we  owe  our  Maker:  to  call  men  continually,  both 
by  example  and  instruction,  to  attend  to  it,  and,  by  the 
form  of  Religion,  ever  before  their  eyes,  remind  them  of 


170  OF  THE  IMPORTANCE  [Part  II. 

the  reality:  to  be  the  repository  of  the  oracles  of  God: 
to  hold  up  the  light  of  revelation  in  aid  to  that  of  nature, 
and  propagate  it  throughout  all  generations  to  the  end  of 
the  world — the  light  of  revelation,  considered  here  in  no 
other  view,  than  as  designed  to  enforce  natural  Religion. 
And  in  proportion  as  Christianity  is  professed  and  taught 
in  the  world,  Religion,  natural  or  essential  Religion,  is 
thus  distinctly  and  advantageously  laid  before  mankind, 
and  brought  again  and  again  to  their  thoughts,  as  a 
matter  of  infinite  importance.  A  visible  church  has  also 
a  further  tendency  to  promote  natural  Religion,  as  being 
an  instituted  method  of  education,  originally  intended  to 
be  of  more  peculiar  advantage  to  those  who  conform  to 
it.  For  one  end  of  the  institution  was,  that,  by  admoni- 
tion and  reproof,  as  well  as  instruction ;  by  a  general 
regular  discipline,  and  public  exercises  of  Religion  ;  the 
hody  of  Christ,  as  the  Scripture  speaks,  should  be  edified ; 
i.  e.  trained  up  in  piety  and  virtue  for  a  higher  and  better 
state.  This  settlement,  then,  appearing  thus  beneficial; 
tending  in  the  nature  of  the  thing  to  answer,  and,  in 
some  degree,  actually  answering,  those  ends ;  it  is  to  be 
remembered,  that  the  very  notion  of  it  implies  positive 
institutions;  for  the  visibility  of  the  church  consists  in 
them.  Take  away  every  thing  of  this  kind,  and  you 
lose  the  very  notion  itself.  So  that  if  the  things  now 
mentioned  are  advantages,  the  reason  and  importance  of 
positive  institutions  in  general  is  most  obvious  ;  since 
without  them  these  advantages  could  not  be  secured  to 
the  world.  And  it  is  mere  idle  wantonness,  to  insist 
upon  knowing  the  reasons,  why  such  particular  ones 
were  fixed  upon  rather  than  others. 

The  benefit  arising  from  this  supernatural  assistance, 
which  Christianity  affords  to  natural  Religion,  is  what 
some  persons  are  very  slow  in  apprehending.  And  yet  ' 
it  is  a  thing  distinct  in  itself,  and  a  very  plain  obvious 
one.  For  will  any  in  good  earnest  really  say,  that  the 
bulk  of  mankind  in  the  heathen  world  were  in  as  advan- 
tageous a  situation  with  regard  to  natural  Religion,  as 
they  are  now  amongst  us:  that  it  was  laid  before  them, 
and  enforced  upon  them,  in  a  manner  as  distinct,  and  as 
much  tending  to  influence  their  practice.^ 


Chap.  I.]  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  171 

The  objections  against  all  this,  from  the  perversion  of 
Christianity,  and  from  the  supposition  of  its  having  had 
but  Httle  good  influence,  however  innocently  they  may 
be  proposed,  yet  cannot  be  insisted  upon  as  conclusive, 
upon  any  principles,  but  such  as  lead  to  downright 
Atheism  ;  because  the  manifestation  of  the  law  of  nature 
by  reason,  which,  upon  all  principles  of  Theism,  must 
have  been  from  God,  has  been  perverted  and  rendered 
ineffectual  in  the  same  manner.  It  may  indeed,  I  think, 
truly  be  said,  that  the  good  effects  of  Christianity  have 
not  been  small ;  nor  its  supposed  ill  effects,  any  effects 
at  all  of  it,  properly  speaking.  Perhaps,  too,  the  things 
themselves  done  have  been  aggravated  ;  and  if  not, 
Christianity  hath  been  often  only  a  pretence ;  and  the 
same  evils  in  the  main  would  have  been  done  upon 
some  other  pretence.  However,  great  and  shocking  as 
the  corruptions  and  abuses  of  it  have  really  been,  they 
cannot  be  insisted  upon  as  arguments  against  it,  upon 
principles  of  Theism.  For  one  cannot  proceed  one  step 
in  reasoning  upon  natural  Religion,  any  more  than  upon 
Christianity,  without  laying  it  down  as  a  first  principle, 
that  the  dispensations  of  Providence  are  not  to  be  judged 
of  by  their  perversions,  but  by  their  genuine  tendencies: 
not  by  what  they  do  actually  seem  to  effect,  but  by  what 
they  would  effect  if  mankind  did  their  part ;  that  part 
which  is  justly  put  and  left  upon  them.  It  is  altogether 
as  much  the  language  of  one  as  of  the  other :  He  that  is 
unjust,  let  him  he  unjust  still :  and  he  that  is  holy,  let  him 
he  holy  still*  The  light  of  reason  does  not,  any  more 
than  that  of  revelation,  force  men  to  submit  to  its 
authority;  both  admonish  them  of  what  they  ought  to 
do  and  avoid,  together  with  the  consequences  of  each; 
and  after  this,  leave  them  at  full  liberty  to  act  just  as 
they  please,  till  the  appointed  time  of  judgment.  Every 
moment's  experience  shows,  that  this  is  God's  general 
rule  of  government. 

To  return  tlien  :  Christianity  being  a  promulgation  of 
the  law  of  nature;  beim^  moreover  an  authoritative  pro- 
mulgation of  it ;  with  new  liLrht,  and  other  circumstances 
of  peculiar  advantage,  adapted  to  the  wants  of  mankind; 

•  Rev.  xxii.  1 1. 


172  OF  THE  IMPORTANCE  [Part  IL 

these  things  fully  show  its  importance.  And  it  is  to  be 
observed  further,  that  as  the  nature  of  the  case  requires, 
so  all  Christians  are  commanded  to  contribute,  by  their 
profession  of  Christianity,  to  preserve  it  in  the  world, 
and  render  it  such  a  promulgation  and  enforcement  of 
Religion.  For  it  is  the  very  scheme  of  the  Gospel,  that 
each  Christian  should,  in  his  degree,  contribute  towards 
continuing  and  carrying  it  on :  all  by  uniting  in  the 
public  profession  and  external  practice  of  Christianity  ; 
some  by  instructing,  by  having  the  oversight  and  taking 
care  of  this  religious  community,  the  Church  of  God* 
Now  this  further  shows  the  importance  of  Christianity; 
and,  which  is  what  I  chiefly  intend,  its  importance  in  a 
practical  sense:  or  the  high  obligations  we  are  under,  to 
take  it  into  our  most  serious  consideration  ;  and  the 
danger  there  must  necessarily  be,  not  only  in  treating  it 
despitefully,  which  I  am  not  now  speaking  of,  but  in 
disregarding  and  neglecting  it.  For  this  is  neglecting  to 
do  what  is  expressly  enjoined  us,  for  continuing  those 
benefits  to  the  world,  and  transmitting  them  down  to 
future  times.  And  all  this  holds,  even  though  the  only 
thing  to  be  considered  in  Christianity,  were  its  subser- 
viency to  natural  Religion.  But, 

II.  Christianity  is  to  be  considered  in  a  further  view; 
as  containing  an  account  of  a  dispensation  of  things, 
not  at  all  discoverable  by  reason,  in  consequence  of 
which  several  distinct  precepts  are  enjoined  us.  Chris- 
tianity is  not  only  an  external  institution  of  natural 
Religion,  and  a  new  promulgation  of  God's  general  pro- 
vidence, as  righteous  Governor  and  Judge  of  the  world;  / 
but  it  contains  also  a  revelation  of  a  particular  dispensa- 
tion of  Providence,  carrying  on  by  his  Son  and  Spirit, 
for  the  recovery  and  salvation  of  mankind,  who  are 
represented  in  Scripture  to  be  in  a  state  of  ruin.  And 
in  consequence  of  this  revelation  being  made,  we  are 
commanded  to  he  haptizcd,  not  only  in  the  name  of  the 
Father,  but  also,  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost :  and 
other  obligations  of  duty,  unknown  before,  to  the  Son 
and  the  Holy  Ghost,  are  revealed.  Now  the  importance 
of  these  duties  may  be  judged  of,  by  observing  that  they 
arise,  not  from  positive  command  merely,  but  also  from 


Chap.  L]  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  173 

the  offices,  which  appear,  from  Scripture,  to  belong  to 
those  divine  persons  in  the  Gospel  dispensation;  or  from 
the  relations,  which,  we  are  there  informed,  they  stand 
in  to  us.  By  reason  is  revealed  the  relation,  which  God 
the  Father  stands  in  to  us.  Hence  arises  the  obhgation 
of  duty  which  we  are  under  to  him.  In  Scripture  are 
revealed  the  relations,  which  the  Son  and  Holy  Spirit 
stand  in  to  us.  Hence  arise  the  obligations  of  duty, 
w^hich  we  are  under  to  them.  The  truth  of  the  case,  as 
one  may  speak,  in  each  of  these  three  respects  being 
admitted:  that  God  is  the  governor  of  the  world,  upon 
the  evidence  of  reason ;  that  Christ  is  the  mediator 
between  God  and  man,  and  the  Holy  Ghost  our  guide 
and  sanctifier,  upon  the  evidence  of  revelation :  the 
truth  of  the  case,  I  say,  in  each  of  these  respects  being 
admitted ;  it  is  no  m.ore  a  question,  why  it  should  be 
commanded,  that  we  be  baptized  in  the  name  of  the 
Son  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  than  that  we  be  baptized  in 
the  name  of  the  Father.  This  matter  seems  to  require 
to  be  more  fully  stated.* 

Let  it  be  remembered,  then,  that  Religion  comes 
under  the  twofold  consideration  of  internal  and  external : 
for  the  latter  is  as  real  a  part  of  Religion,  of  true  Reh- 
gion,  as  the  former.  Now  when  Religion  is  considered 
under  the  first  notion,  as  an  inward  principle,  to  be 
exerted  in  such  and  such  inward  acts  of  the  mind  and 
heart ;  the  essence  of  natural  Religion  may  be  said  to 
consist  in  religious  regards  to  God  the  Father  Almighty: 
and  the  essence  of  revealed  Religion,  as  distinguished 
from  natural,  to  consist  in  religious  regards  to  the  Son, 
and  to  the  Holy  Ghost.  And  the  obligation  we  are 
under,  of  paying  these  religious  regards  to  each  of  these 
divine  persons  respectively,  arises  from  the  respective 
relations  which  they  each  stand  in  to  us.  How  these  rela- 
tions arc  made  known,  whether  by  reason  or  revelation, 
makes  no  alteration  in  the  case:  because  the  duties  arise 
out  of  the  relations  themselves,  not  out  of  the  manner  in 
which  we  are  informed  of  them.  The  Son  and  Spirit 
have  each  his  proper  office  in  that  great  dispensation  of 

•  Sre  The  Natnrr-,  Ohlipntion,  and  Fffiracy,  of  the  Christian  Sacraments,  ic,  and 
ColliU-r  of  revfakd  Religion,  as  there  4iioU'd. 


174  OF  THE  IMPORTANCE  [Part  II. 

Providence,  the  redemption  of  the  world;  the  one  our 
mediator,  the  other  our  sanctifier.  Docs  not  then  the 
duty  of  rehgious  regards  to  both  these  divine  persons, 
as  immediately  arise  to  tlie  view  of  reason,  out  of 
the  very  nature  of  these  offices  and  relations  ;  as  the 
inward  good- will  and  kind  intention,  which  we  owe  to 
our  fellow  creatures,  arises  out  of  the  common  relations 
between  us  and  them  ?  But  it  will  be  asked,  "  What 
are  the  inward  religious  regards,  appearing  thus  ob- 
viously due  to  the  Son  and  Holy  Spirit;  as  arising,  not 
merely  from  command  in  Scripture,  but  from  the  very 
nature  of  the  revealed  relations,  which  they  stand  in  to 
us  ?"  I  answer,  the  religious  regards  of  reverence^ 
honour,  love,  trust,  gratitude,  fear,  hope.  In  what 
external  manner  this  inward  worship  is  to  be  expressed, 
is  a  matter  of  pure  revealed  command;  as  perhaps  the 
external  manner,  in  which  God  the  Father  is  to  be  wor- 
shipped, may  be  more  so,  than  we  are  ready  to  think: 
but  the  worship,  the  internal  worship  itself,  to  the  Son 
and  Holy  Ghost,  is  no  further  matter  of  pure  revealed 
command,  than  as  the  relations  they  stand  in  to  us  are 
matter  of  pure  revelation:  for  the  relations  being  known, 
the  obligations  to  such  internal  worship  are  obligations 
of  reason,  arising  out  of  those  relations  themselves.  In 
short,  the  history  of  the  Gospel  as  immediately  shows 
us  the  reason  of  these  obligations,  as  it  shows  us  the 
meaning  of  the  words.  Son  and  Holy  Ghost. 

If  this  account  of  the  Christian  Religion  be  just;  those 
persons  who  can  speak  lightly  of  it,  as  of  little  conse- 
quence, provided  natural  Religion  be  kept  to,  plainly 
forget,  that  Christianity,  even  what  is  peculiarly  so 
called,  as  distinguished  from  natural  Religion,  has  yet 
somewhat  very  important,  even  of  a  moral  nature.  For 
the  office  of  our  Lord  being  made  known,  and  the  rela- 
tion he  stands  in  to  us,  the  obligation  of  religious 
regards  to  him  is  plainly  moral,  as  much  as  charity  to 
mankind  is;  since  tliis  obligation  arises,  before  external 
c  ommand,  immediately  out  of  that  his  office  and  relation 
itself.  Those  persons  appear  to  forget,  that  revelation 
is  to  be  considered,  as  informing  us  of  somewhat  new, 
in  the  state  of  mankind,  and  in  the  government  of  the 


Chap.  I.]  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  175 

world:  as  acquainting  us  vrith  some  relations  we  stand 
in,  which  could  not  otherwise  have  been  known.  And 
these  relations  being  real  (though  before  revelation  we 
could  be  under  no  obligations  from  them,  yet  upon  their 
being  revealed),  there  is  no  reason  to  think,  but  that 
neglect  of  behaving  suitably  to  them  will  be  attended  with 
the  same  kind  of  consequences  under  God's  government, 
as  neglecting  to  behave  suitably  to  any  other  relations 
made  known  to  us  by  reason.  And  ignorance,  whether 
unavoidable  or  voluntary,  so  far  as  we  can  possibly  see, 
will  just  as  much,  and  just  as  little,  excuse  in  one  case  as 
in  the  other :  the  ignorance  being  supposed  equally 
unavoidable,  or  equally  voluntary,  in  both  cases. 

If  therefore  Christ  be  indeed  the  mediator  between 
God  and  man,  i,  e.  if  Christianity  be  true  ;  if  he  be  in- 
deed our  Lord,  our  Saviour,  and  our  God ;  no  one  can 
say,  what  may  follow,  not  only  the  obstinate,  but  the 
careless  disregard  to  him,  in  those  high  relations.  Nay 
no  one  can  say,  what  may  follow  such  disregard,  even  in 
the  way  of  natural  consequence.*  For,  as  the  natural 
consequences  of  vice  in  this  life  are  doubtless  to  be  con- 
sidered as  judicial  punishments  inflicted  by  God;  so 
likewise,  for  aught  we  know,  the  judicial  punishments  of 
the  future  hfe  may  be,  in  a  like  way  or  a  like  sense,  the 
natural  consequence  of  vice:t  of  men's  violating  or  disre- 
garding the  relations  which  God  has  placed  them  in  here, 
and  made  known  to  them. 

Again:  If  mankind  are  corrupted  and  depraved  in 
their  moral  character,  and  so  are  unfit  for  that  state, 
which  Christ  is  gone  to  prepare  for  his  disciples  ;  and  if 
the  assistance  of  God's  Spirit  be  necessary  to  renew  their 
nature,  in  the  degree  n  quisite  to  their  being  qualified  for 
that  state  ;  all  which  is  implied  in  the  express,  though 
figurative  declaration,  Except  a  man  be  horn  of  the  Spirity 
he  cannot  enter  into  the  khujdom  of  Go(l:X  supposing  this, 
is  it  possible  any  serious  person  can  think  it  a  slight 
matter,  whether  or  no  he  makes  use  of  the  means,  ex- 
pressly commanded  by  God,  for  obtaining  tliis  divine 
assistance.?  especially  since  the  whole  a»ialogy  of  nature 
shows,  that  we  are  not  to  expect  any  benefits,  without 

*  p.  72.  73.  +  Cb.  V.  X  Jolin  Jii.  v. 


176  OF  THE  IMPORTANCE  [P.art  II. 

making  use  of  the  appointed  means  for  obtaining  or 
enjoying  them.  Now  reason  shows  us  nothing,  of  the 
particular  immediate  means  of  obtaining  either  tempo- 
ral or  spiritual  benefits.  This  therefore  we  must  learn, 
either  from  experience  or  revelation.  And  experience, 
the  present  case  does  not  admit  of. 

The  conclusion  from  all  this  evidently  is,  that,  Chris- 
tianity being  supposed  either  true  or  credible,  it  is 
unspeakable  irreverence,  and  really  the  most  presump- 
tuous rashness,  to  treat  it  as  a  light  matter.  It  can 
never  justly  be  esteemed  of  little  consequence,  till  it  be 
positively  supposed  false.  Nor  do  I  know  a  higher  and 
more  important  obligation  which  we  are  under,  than 
that  of  examining  most  seriously  into  the  evidence  of  it, 
supposing  its  credibility;  and  of  embracing  it,  upon  sup- 
position of  its  truth. 

The  two  following  deductions  may  be  proper  to  be 
added,  in  order  to  illustrate  the  foregoing  observations, 
and  to  prevent  their  being  mistaken. 

First,  Hence  we  may  clearly  see,  where  lies  the  dis- 
tinction between  what  is  positive  and  what  is  moral  in 
Rehgion.  Moral  precepts  are  precepts,  the  reasons  of 
which  we  see:  positive  j)recepts  are  precepts,  the  rea- 
sons of  which  we  do  not  see.*  Moral  duties  arise  out  of 
the  nature  of  the  case  itself,  prior  to  external  command. 
Positive  duties  do  not  arise  out  of  the  nature  of  the  case, 
but  from  external  command ;  nor  would  they  be  duties 
at  all,  were  it  not  for  such  command,  received  from  him 
whose  creatures  and  subjects  we  are.  But  the  manner 
in  which  the  nature  of  the  case,  or  the  fact  of  the  rela- 
tion, is  made  known,  this  doth  not  denominate  any  duty 
either  positive  or  moral.  That  we  be  baptized  in  the  name 
of  the  Father  is  as  much  a  positive  duty,  as  that  we  be 
, baptized  in  the  name  of  the  Son;  because  both  arise  equally 
from  revealed  command:  though  the  relation  which  we 
stand  in  to  God  the  Father  is  made  known  to  us  by  rea- 
son ;  the  relation  wc  stand  in  to. Christ,  by  revelation  only. 

*  Tliis  is  the  distinction  betwern  mornl  nnd  positive  precepts  considered  respec- 
tively as  such.  Hut  yet,  since  the  hitter  have  somewliat  of  a  moral  nature,  we  may 
see  the  reason  of  lliem,  considered  in  this  view.  Moral  an.)  ufjitive  precepts  are  in 
some  respects  alike,  in  other  respects  different. .  So  far  as  they  are  alike,  we  discern 
the  reasons  of  i)oth  ;  so  far  as  they  are  tlilFerent,  we  discern  the  reasons  of  the  for- 
mer, bi'i,  not  of  the  latter.   See  p.  108,  &c.,  and  p.  177. 


Chap.  I.]  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  177 

On  tlie  other  hand,  the  dispensation  of  the  Gospel 
admitt'jd,  gratitude  as  immediately  becomes  due  to  Christ, 
from  his  being  the  voluntary  minister  of  this  dispensation, 
as  it  is  due  to  God  the  Father,  from  his  being  the  foun- 
tain of  all  good  ;  though  the  first  is  made  known  to  us  by' 
revelation  only,  the  second  by  reason.  Hence  also  we 
may  see,  and,  for  distinctness'  sake,  it  may  be  worth  men- 
tioning, that  positive  institutions  come  under  a  twofold 
consideration.  They  are  either  institutions  founded  on 
natural  Religion,  as  baptism  in  the  name  of  the  Father  ; 
though  this  has  also  a  particular  reference  to  the  Gospel 
dispensation,  for  it  is  in  the  name  of  God,  as  the  Father 
of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ :  or  they  are  external  institu- 
tions founded  on  revealed  Religion ;  as  baptism  in  the 
name  of  the  Son,  and  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 

Secondly^  From  the  distinction  between  what  is  moral 
and  what  is  positive  in  Religion,  appears  the  ground  of 
that  peculiar  preference,  which  the  Scripture  teaches  us 
to  be  due  to  the  former. 

The  reason  of  positive  institutions  in  general  is  very 
obvious  ;  though  we  should  not  see  the  reason,  why  such 
particular  ones  are  pitched  upon  rather  than  others. 
Whoever  therefore,  instead  of  cavilling  at  words,  will 
tittend  to  the  thing  itself,  may  clearly  see,  that  posi- 
tive institutions  in  general,  as  distinguished  from  this 
or  that  particular  one,  have  the  nature  of  moral  com- 
mands ;  since  the  reasons  of  them  appear.  Thus,  for 
instance,  the  external  worship  of  God  is  a  moral  duty, 
though  no  particular  mode  of  it  be  so.  Care  then  is  to 
be  taken,  when  a  comparison  is  made  between  positive 
and  moral  duties,  that  they  be  compared  no  further  than 
as  they  are  different ;  no  further  than  as  the  former  are 
positive,  or  arise  out  of  mere  external  command,  the 
reasons  of  which  we  are  not  acquainted  with  ;  and  as 
the  latter  are  moral,  or  arise  out  of  the  apparent  reason 
of  the  case,  without  such  external  command.  Unless 
tliis  caution  be  observed,  we  shall  run  into  endless 
confusion. 

Now  this  being  premised,  suppose  two  standing  pre- 
ce])ts  enjoint  d  by  the  same  autliority ;  that,  in  certain 
conjunctures,  it  is  impossible  to  ob(  y  both  ;  that  the  former 


178 


OF  THE  IMPORTANCE 


[Part  1% 


is  moral,  i.  e.  a  precept  of  which  we  see  the  reasons, 
and  that  they  hold  in  the  particular  case  before  us ;  but 
that  the  latter  is  positive,  ^.  e.  a  precept  of  which  we  da 
not  see  the  reasons:  it  is  indisputable  that  our  obliga- 
tions are  to  obey  the  former ;  because  there  is  an  appa- 
rent reason  for  this  preference,  and  none  against  it. 
Further,  positive  institutions,  I  suppose  all  those  which 
Christianity  enjoins,  are  means  to  a  moral  end:  and  the 
end  must  be  acknowledged  more  excellent  than  the 
means.  Nor  is  observance  of  these  institutions  any 
religious  obedience  at  all,  or  of  any  value,  otherwise 
than  as  it  proceeds  from  a  moral  principle.  This  seems 
to  be  the  strict  logical  way  of  stating  and  determining 
this  matter;  but  will,  perhaps,  be  found  less  applicable 
to  practice,  than  may  be  thought  at  first  sight. 

And  theiefore,  in  a  more  practical,  though  more  lax 
way  of  consideration,  and  taking  the  words,  moral  law 
and  positive  institutions y  in  the  popular  sense  ;  I  add, 
that  the  whole  moral  law  is  as  much  matter  of  revealed 
command,  as  positive  institutions  are  :  for  the  Scripture 
enjoins  every  moral  virtue.  In  this  respect  then  they 
are  both  upon  a  level.  But  the  moral  law  is,  moreover, 
written  upon  our  hearts ;  interwoven  into  our  very 
nature.  And  this  is  a  plain  intimation  of  the  Author  of 
it,  which  is  to  be  preferred,  when  they  interfere. 

But  there  is  not  altogether  so  much  necessity  for  the 
determination  of  this  question,  as  some  persons  seem  to 
think.  Nor  are  we  left  to  reason  alone  to  determine  it. 
For,  First,  Though  mankind  have,  in  all  ages,  been 
greatly  prone  to  place  their  religion  in  peculiar  positive 
rites,  by  way  of  equivalent  for  obedience  to  moral  pre- 
cepts; yet,  without  making  any  comparison  at  all 
between  them,  and  consequently  without  determining 
which  is  to  have  the  preference,  the  nature  of  the  thing 
abundantly  shows  all  notions  of  that  kind  to  be  utterly 
subversive  of  true  Religion  as  they  are,  moreover,  con- 
trary to  the  whole  general  tenor  of  Scripture ;  and  like- 
wise to  the  most  express  particular  declarations  of  it, 
that  nothing  can  render  us  accepted  of  God,  without 
moral  virtue.  Sccondfij,  Upon  the  occasion  of  mention- 
ing together  positive  and  moral  duties,  the  Scripture 


Chap.  I.]  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  179 

always  puts  the  stress  of  Rehgion  upon  the  latter,  and 
never  upon  the  former:  which,  though  no  sort  of  allow- 
ance to  neglect  the  former,  when  they  do  not  interfere 
with  the  latter,  yet  is  a  plain  intimation,  that  when  they 
do,  the  latter  are  to  be  preferred.  And  further,  as 
raankmd  are  for  placing  the  stress  of  their  religion  diny 
where,  rather  than  upon  virtue;  lest  both  the  reason 
of  the  thing,  and  the  general  spirit  of  Christianity, 
appearing  in  the  intimation  now  mentioned,  should  be 
ineffectual  against  this  prevalent  folly:  our  Lord  him- 
self, from  whose  command  abne  the  obligation  of  posi- 
tive institutions  arises,  has  taken  occasion  to  make  the 
comparison  between  them  and  moral  precepts  ;  when 
tlie  Pharisees  censured  him,  for  eating  loith  publicans  and 
sinners;  and  also  when  they  censured  his  disciples,  for 
plucking  the  ears  of  corn  on  the  Sabbath  dag.  Upon  this 
comparison,  he  has  determined  expressly,  and  in  form, 
which  shall  have  the  preference  when  they  interfere. 
And  by  dehvering  his  authoritative  determination  in  a 
proverbial  manner  of  expression,  he  has  made  it  ge- 
neral: I  unll  have  mercgy  and  not  sacrifice.*  The  pro- 
priety of  the  word  proverbial^  is  not  the  thing  insisted 
upon:  though  I  think  the  manner  of  speaking  is  to  be 
called  so.  But  that  the  manner  of  speaking  very 
remarkably  renders  the  determination  general,  is  surely 
indisputable.  For,  had  it,  in  the  latter  case,  been  said 
only,  that  God  preferred  mercy  to  the  rigid  observance 
of  the  Sabbath;  even  then," by  parity  of  reason,  most 
justly  might  we  have  argued,  that  he  preferred  mercy 
likewise,  to  the  observance  of  other  ritual  institutions  ; 
and  in  general,  moral  duti-es,  to  positive  ones.  And 
thus  the  determination  would  have  been  general;  though 
its  being  so  were  inferred  and  not  expressed.  But  as 
the  passage  really  stands  in  the  Gospel,  it  is  nuich 
stronii:cr.  For  the  sense  and  the  very  literal  words  of 
our  Lord's  answer  are  as  applicable  to  any  other 
instance  of  a  comparison,  between  positive  and  moral 
duties,  as  to  this  upon  which  they  were  spoken.  And 
if,  in  case  of  com[)etition,  mercy  is  to  be  preferred  to 
positive  institutions,  it  will  scarce   be   tliought,  that 

♦  MatOi.  ix.  13,  and  xii.  7. 
M  8 


180  OF  THE  IMPORTANCE  [Part  II. 

justice  is  to  ^Ive  place  to  them.  It  is  remarkable  too, 
that,  as  the  words  are  a  quotation  from  the  Old  Testa- 
ment, they  are  introduced,  on  both  the  forementioned 
occasions,  with  a  declaration,  that  the  Pharisees  did  not 
understand  the  meaning  of  them.  This,  I  say,  is  very 
remarkable.  For,  since  it  is  scarce  possible,  for  the 
most  ignorant  person,  not  to  understand  the  hteral  sense 
of  the  passage,  in  the  Prophet;*  and  since  understanding 
the  literal  sense  would  not  have  prevented  their  con- 
demning the  guiltless,\  it  can  hardly  be  doubted,  that 
the  thing  which  our  Lord  really  intended  in  that  decla- 
ration was,  that  the  Pharisees  had  not  learned  from  it, 
as  they  might,  wherein  the  general  spirit  of  Religion 
consists:  that  it  consists  in  moral  piety  and  virtue,  as 
distinguished  from  forms,  and  ritual  observances.  How- 
ever, it  is  certain  we  may  learn  this  from  his  divine 
application  of  the  passage,  in  the  Gospel. 

But,  as  it  is  one  of  the  peculiar  weaknesses  of  human 
nature,  when,  upon  a  comparison  of  two  things,  one  is 
found  to  be  of  greater  importance  than  the  other,  to 
consider  this  other  as  of  scarce  any  importance  at  all : 
it  is  highly  necessary  that  we  remind  ourselves,  how 
great  presumption  it  is,  to  make  light  of  any  institutions 
of  divine  appointment ;  that  our  obligations  to  obey  all 
God's  commands  w^hatever  are  absolute  and  indispens- 
able ;  and  that  commands  merely  positive,  admitted  to 
be  from  him,  lay  us  under  a  moral  obligation  to  obey 
them :  an  obligation  moral  in  the  strictest  and  most 
proper  sense. 

To  these  things  I  cannot  forbear  adding,  that  the 
account  now  given  of  Christianity  most  strongly  shows 
and  enforces  upon  us  the  obligation  of  searching  the 
Scriptures,  in  order  to  see,  what  the  scheme  of  revela- 
tion really  is;  instead  of  determining  beforehand,  from 
reason,  what  the  scheme  of  it  must  be.+  Indeed  if  in 
Revelation  there  be  found  any  passages,  the  seeming 
meaning  of  which  is  contrary  to  natural  Religion ;  we 
may  most  certainly  conclude,  such  seeming  meaning 
not  to  be  the  real  one.  But  it  is  not  any  degree  of  a 
presumption  against  an  interpretation  of  Scripture,  that 

*  Hos.  vi.  f  See  MaUh.  xii.  vii.  J  See  Chap.  iii. 


/ 

CaAP.  II.]  OF  CHRISTIANITY.  181 

such  interpretation  contains  a  doctrine,  which  the  hght 
of  nature  cannot  discover;*  er  a  precept,  which  the  law 
of  nature  does  not  obhge  to. 


CHAP.  II.  K 

OF  THE  SUPPOSED  PRESUMPTION  AGAINST  A  REVELATION, 
CONSIDERED  AS  MIRACULOUS. 

Having  shown  the  importance  of  the  Christian  revela- 
tion, and  the  obligations  which  we  are  under  seriously 
to  attend  to  it,  upon  supposition  of  its  truth,  or  its  cre- 
dibility: the  next  thing  in  order,  is  to  consider  the  sup- 
posed presumptions  against  revelation  in  general ;  which 
shall  be  the  subject  of  this  Chapter:  and  the  objections 
against  the  Christian  in  particular;  which  shall  be  the 
subject  of  some  following  ones.f  For  it  seems  the  most 
natural  method,  to  remove  the  prejudices  against  Chris- 
tianity, before  we  proceed  to  the  consideration  of  the 
positive  evidence  for  it,  and  the  objections  against  that 
evidence. t 

It  is,  I  think,  commonly  supposed,  that  there  is  some 
peculiar  presumption,  from  the  analogy  of  nature,  against 
the  Christian  scheme  of  things;  at  least  against  miracles; 
so  as  that  stronger  evidence  is  necessary  to  prove  the 
truth  and  reality  of  them,  than  would  be  sufficient  to  con- 
vince us  of  other  events,  or  matters  of  fact.  Indeed  the 
consideration  of  this  supposed  presumption  cannot  bat 
be  thought  very  insignificant,  by  many  persons.  Yet, 
as  it  belongs  to  the  subject  of  this  Treatise;  so  it  may 
tend  to  open  the  mind,  and  remove  some  prejudices: 
however  needless  the  consideration  of  it  be,  upon  its 
own  account. 

I.  I  find  no  appearance  of  a  presumption,  from  the 
analogy  of  nature,  against  the  general  scheme  of  Chris- 
tianity, that  God  created  and  invisibly  governs  the  world 
by  Jesus  Christ;  and  by  him  also  will  hercaft(M' jiidi^c  it 
in  rigiitcousness,  i.  e.  render  to  every  one  according  to 
his  works  ;  and  that  good  men  are  under  the  secret 

*  p.  181,  182.  f  Ch.  iii.  iv.  V.  vi.  X  Cli.  vii. 


\ 

182  OF  THE  SUPPOSED  PRESUMPTION  [Part  H 

influence  of  liis  Spirit.  Whether  these  things  are^  or 
are  not,  to  be  called  miraculous,  is,  perhaps,  only  a 
question  about  words;  or  however,  is  of  no  moment  in 
the  case.  If  the  analogy  of  nature  raises  any  presump- 
tion against  this  general  scheme  of  Christianity,  it  must 
be,  either  because  it  is  not  discoverable  by  reason  or  expe- 
rience; or  else,  because  it  is  unlike  that  course  of  nature, 
which  is.  But  analogy  raises  no  presumption  against 
the  truth  of  this  scheme,  upon  either  of  these  accounts. 

First,  There  is  no  presumption,  from  analogy,  against 
the  truth  of  it,  upon  account  of  its  not  being  discover- 
able by  reason  or  experience.  For  suppose  one  who 
never  heard  of  revelation,  of  the  most  improved  under- 
standing, and  acquainted  with  our  whole  system  of 
natural  philosophy  and  natural  rehgion;  such  a  one 
could  not  but  be  sensible,  that  it  was  but  a  very  small 
part  of  the  natural  and  moral  system  of  the  universe, 
which  he  was  acquainted  with.  He  could  not  but  be 
sensible,  that  there  must  be  innumerable  things,  in  the 
dispensations  of  Providence  past,  in  the  invisible  govern- 
ment over  the  world  at  present  carrying  on,  and  in  what 
is  to  come;  of  which  he  was  wholly  ignorant,*  and  which 
could  not  be  discovered  without  revelation.  Whether 
the  scheme  of  nature  be,  in  the  strictest  sense,  infinite 
or  not ;  it  is  evidently  vast,  even  beyond  all  possible 
imagination.  And  doubtless  that  part  of  it,  which  is 
opened  to  our  view,  is  but  as  a  point,  in  comparison  of 
the  whole  plan  of  Providence,  reaching  throughout 
eternity  past  and  future;  in  comparison  of  what  is  even 
now  going  on  in  the  remote  parts  of  the  boundless 
universe;  nay,  in  comparison  of  the  whole  scheme  of 
this  world.  And  therefore,  that  things  lie  beyond  the 
natural  reach  of  our  faculties,  is  no  sort  of  presumption 
agefinst  the  truth  and  reality  of  them :  because  it  is  cer- 
tain, there  are  innumerable  things,  in  the  constitution 
and  government  of  the  universe,  which  are  thus  beyond 
the  natural  reach  of  our  faculties.  Secondly ,  Analogy 
raises  no  presumption  against  any  of  the  things  con- 
tained in  this  general  doctrine  of  Scripture  now  men- 
tioned, upon  account  of  their  being  unlike  the  known 

•  p.  149. 


Chap,  n.]  AGAINST  MIRACLES.  1S3 

course  of  nature.  For  there  is  no  presumption  at  all 
from  analogy,  that  the  whole  course  of  things,  or  divine 
government,  naturally  unknown  to  us,  and  every  thing 
in  it,  is  like  to  any  thing  in  that  which  is  known  ;  and 
therefore  no  peculiar  presumption  against  any  thing  in 
the  former,  upon  account  of  its  being  unlike  to  any  thing 
in  the  latter.  And  in  the  constitution  and  natural 
government  of  the  wor^d,  as  well^  as  in  the  moral 
government  of  it,  we  see  things,  in  a  great  degree, 
unlike  one  another:  and  therefore  ought  not  to  wond.  r 
at  such  unlikeness  between  things  visible  and  invisible. 
However,  the  scheme  of  Christianity  is  by  no  means 
entirely  unlike  the  scheme  of  nature;  as  will  appear  in 
the  following  part  of  this  Treatise. 

The  notion  of  a  miracle,  considered  as  a  proof  of  a 
divine  mission,  has  bee  n  stated  with  great  exactness  by 
divines  ;  and  is,  I  think,  sufficiently  understood  by  every 
one.  There  are  also  invisible  miracles,  the  Incarnation 
♦  of  Christ,  for  instance,  which,  being  secret,  cannot  be 
alleged  as  a  proof  of  such  a  mission  ;  but  require  them- 
selves to  be  proved  by  visible  miracles.  Revelation 
itself  too  is  miraculous  ;  and  miracles  are  the  proof  of  it ; 
and  the  supposed  presumption  against  these  shall  pre- 
sently be  considered.  All  which  I  have  been  observins: 
here  is,  that,  whether  we  choose  to  call  every  thing  in 
the  dispensations  of  Providence,  not  discoverable  with- 
out revelation,  nor  like  the  known  course  of  things, 
miraculous;  and  whether  the  general  Christian  dispensa- 
tion now  mentioned  is  to  be  called  so,  or  not ;  the  fore- 
going observations  seem  certainly  to  show,  that  there  is 
no  presumption  against  it  from  the  analogy  of  nature. 

II.  There  is  no  presuin])tion,  from  analogy,  against 
some  operations,  which  we  should  now  call  miraculous; 
particularly  none  against  a  revelation  at  the  beginning  of 
the  world:  nothing  of  such  presuni[)tion  against  it,  as  is 
supposed  to  be  implied  or  expressed  in  the  word,  mira- 
culous.  For  a  miracle,  in  its  very  notion,  is  relative  to  a 
course  of  nature  ;  and  inij)lies  somewhat  different  from 
It,  considered  as  being  so.  Now,  either  theie  was  no 
course  of  nature  at  the  time  which  we  are  speaking  of; 
or  if  there  were,  we  aie  not  acquainted  what  the  course 


184  OF  THE  SUPPOSED  PRESUMPTION  [Part  IT 

of  nature  is,  upon  the  first  peopling  of  worlds.  And 
therefore  the  question,  whether  mankind  had  a  revelation 
made  to  them  at  that  time,  is  to  be  considered,  not  as  a 
question  concerning  a  miracle,  but  as  a  common  question 
of  fact.  And  we  have  the  like  reason,  be  it  more  or  less, 
to  admit  the  report  of  tradition,  concerning  this  question, 
and  concerning  common  matters  of  fact  of  the  same 
antiquity;  for  instance,  what  part  of  the  earth  was  first 
peopled. 

Or  thus:  When  mankind  was  first  placed  in  this  state, , 
there  was  a  power  exerted,  totally  different  from  the  pre- 
sent course  of  nature.  Now,  whether  this  power,  thus : 
wholly  different  from  the  present  course  of  nature,  for 
we  cannot  properly  apply  to  it  the  word  miraculous; 
whether  this  power  stopped  immediately  after  it  had  made 
man,  or  went  on,  and  exerted  itself  further  in  giving  him 
a  revelation,  is  a  question  of  the  same  kind,  as  whether 
an  ordinary  power  exerted  itself  in  such  a  particular  de- 
gree and  manner,  or  not. 

Or  suppose  the  power  exerted  in  the  formation  of  the 
world  be  considered  as  miraculous,  or  rather,  be  called 
by  that  name ;  the  case  will  not  be  different :  since  it 
must  be  acknowledged,  that  such  a  power  was  exerted. 
For  supposing  it  acknowledged,  that  our  Saviour  spent 
some  years  in  a  course  of  working  miracles  :  there  is  no 
more  presumption,  worth  mentioning,  against  his  having 
exerted  this  miraculous  power,  in  a  certain  degree 
greater,  than  in  a  certain  degree  less  ;  in  one  or  two 
more  instances,  than  in  onf^  or  two  fewer;  in  this,  than- 
in  another  manner. 

It  is  evident  then,  that  thv^re  can  be  no  peculiar  pre- 
sumption, from  the  analogy  of  nature,  against  supposing 
a  revelation,  when  man  was  first  placed  upon  earth. 

Add,  that  there  does  not  appear  the  least  intimation 
in  history  or  tradition,  that  Religion  was  first  reasoned' 
out:  but  the  whole  of  history  and  tradition  makes  for 
the  other  side,  that  it  came  into  the  world  by  revelation. 
Indeed  the  state  of  Religion  in  the  first  ages,  of  which 
we  have  any  account,  seems  to  suppose  and  imply,  that 
this  was  the  original  of  it  amongst  mankind.  And  these 
refleclions  together,  without  taking  in  the  peculiar  au- 


cbap.u.]  against  miracles.  185 

tbority  of  Scripture,  amount  to  real  and  a  very  material 
degree  of  evidence,  that  there  was  a  revelation  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  world.  Now  this,  as  it  is  a  confirmation 
of  natural  Religion,  and  therefore  mentioned  in  the 
for.mer  part  of  this  Treatise  ;*  so  hkewise  it  has  a  tend- 
ency to  remove  any  prejudices  against  a  subsequent 
revelation. 

III.  But  still  it  may  be  objected,  that  there  is  some 
peculiar  presumption,  from  analogy,  against  miracles; 
particularlv  against  revelation,  after  the  settlement  and 
during  the  continuance  of  a  course  of  nature. 

Now  with  regard  to  this  supposed  presumption,  it  is 
to  be.  observed  in  general,  that  before  we  can  have 
ground  for  raising  what  can,  with  any  propriety,  be  called 
an  argument  from  analogy,  for  or  against  revelation  con- 
sidered as  somewhat  miraculous,  we  must  be  acquainted 
with  a  similar  or  parallel  case.  But  the  history  of  some 
other  world,  seemingly  in  like  circumstances  with  our 
own,  is  no  more  than  a  parallel  case:  and  therefore  no- 
tliini?  short  of  this  can  be  so.  Yet,  could  we  come  at  a 
presumptive  proof,  for  or  against  a  revelation,  from  being 
informed,  whether  such  world  had  one,  or  not ;  such  a 
proof",  being  drawn  from  one  single  instance  only,  must 
be  infinitely  precarious.  More  particularly  :  First  of  all; 
There  is  a  very  strong  presumption  against  common 
speculative  truths,  and  against  the  most  ordinary  facts,, 
before  the  proof  of  them ;  which  yet  is  overcome  by 
almost  any  proof.  There  is  a  presumption  of  millions 
to  one,  against  the  story  of  Caesar,  or  of  any  other  man. 
For  suppose  a  number  of  common  facts  so  and  so  cir- 
cumstanced, of  which  one  had  no  kind  of  proof,  should 
happ(  n  to  come  into  one's  thoughts  ;  every  one  would, 
without  any  possible  doubt,  conclude  them  to  be  false. 
And  the  like  may  be  said  of  a  single  common  fact.  And 
from  hence  it  appears,  that  the  question  of  importance, 
as  to  the  matter  l)ef()re  us,  is,  concerning  the  degree  of 
tite  peculiar  presumption  supposed  against  miracles;  not 
whether  there  be  any  peculiar  presumption  at  all  against 
them.  For,  if  there  be  the  presumption  of  millions  to 
one,  against  the  most  common  facts ;  what  can  a  small 


*  r.  J 13,  &c 


186  OF  THE  SUPPOSED  PRESUMPTION  [FAax  II. 

presumption,  additional  to  this,  amount  to,  tlicugh  it  be 
peculiar?  It  cannot  be  estimated,  and  is  as  nothing. 
The  only  material  question  is,  whether  there  be  any  such 
presumption  against  miracles,  as  to  render  them  in  any 
sort  incredible.  Secondly ^  If  we  leave  out  the  considera- 
tion of  Religion,  we  are  in  such  total  darkness,  upon 
what  causes,  occasions,  reasons,  or  circumstances,  the 
present  course  of  nature  depends;  that  there  does  not 
appear  any  improbabihty  for  or  against  supposing,  that 
five  or  six  thousand  years  may  have  given  scope  for 
causes,  occasions,  reasons,  or  circumstances,  from  whence 
miraculous  interpositions  may  have  arisen.  And  from 
this,  joined  with  the  foregoing  observation,  it  will  follow, 
that  there  must  be  a  presumption,  beyond  all  comparison, 
greater,  against  the  particular  common  facts  just  now 
instanced  in,  than  against  miracles  in  general;  before  any 
evidence  of  either.  But,  Thirdlyy  Take  in  the  consid- 
eration of  Religion,  or  the  moral  system  of  the  world, 
and  then  we  see  distinct  particular  reasons  for  miracles: 
to  afford  mankind  instruction  additional  to  that  of  nature, 
and  to  attest  the  truth  of  it.  And  this  gives  a  real  credi- 
bility to  the  supposition,  that  it  might  be  part  of  the 
original  plan  of  things,  that  there  should  be  miraculous 
interpositions.  Then,  Lastly,  Miracles  must  not  be  com- 
pared to  common  natural  events;  or  to  events  which, 
though  uncommon,  are  similar  to  what  we  daily  expe- 
rience: but  to  the  extraordinary  phenomena  of  nature. 
And  then  the  comparison  will  be  between  the  presump- 
tion against  miracles,  and  the  presumption  against  such 
imcommon  appearances,  suppose,  as  comets,  vcvA  against 
there  being  any  such  powers  in  nature  as  magnetism  and 
electricity,  so  contrary  to  the  properties  of  other  bodies 
not  endued  with  these  powers.  And  before  any  one  can 
determine,  whether  there  be  any  peculiar  presumption 
a2;ainst  miracles,  more  than  against  other  extraordinary 
things;  he  must  consider,  what,  upon  first  hearing, 
would  be  the  presumption  against  the  last  mentioned 
appearances  and  powers,  to  a  person  acquainted  only 
with  the  daily,  monthly,  and  annual  course  of  nature  re- 
specting this  earth,  and  with  those  common  powers  of 
matter  which  we  every  da^^  sr^e. 


Chap.  III.]  AGAINST  MIRACLES.  187 

Upon  all  this  I  conclude  ;  that  there  certainly  is  no 
such  presumplioa  against  miracles,  as  to  render  them  in 
any  wise  incredible :  that,  on  the  contrary,  our  being  able 
to  discern  reasons  for  them,  gives  a  positive  credibihty 
to  the  history  of  them,  in  cases  where  those  reasons  hold  : 
and  that  it  is  by  no  means  certain,  that  there  is  any  pecu- 
liar presumption  at  all,  from  analogy,  even  in  the  lowest 
degree,  against  miracles,  as  distinguished  from  other  ex- 
traordinary phenomena :  though  it  is  not  worth  while  to 
perplex  the  reader  with  inquiries  into  the  abstract  nature 
of  evidence,  in  order  to  determine  a  question,  which, 
without  such  inquiries,  we  see*  is  of  no  importance. 

CHAP.  III.  _v 

OF  OUR  INCAPACITY  OF  JUDGING,  WHAT  WERE  TO  BE 
EXPECTED  IN  A  REVELATION  ;  AND  THE  CREDIBILITY, 
FROM  ANALOGY,  THAT  IT  MUST  CONTAIN  THINGS 
APPEARING  LIABLE  TO  OBJECTIONS. 

Besides  the  objections  against  the  evidence  for  Chris- 
tianity, many  are  alleged  against  the  scheme  of  it ; 
against  the  whole  manner  in  which  it  is  put  and  left 
with  the  world;  as  well  as  against  several  particular 
relations  in  Scripture:  objections  drawn  from  the  defi- 
<:iencies  of  revelation:  from  things  in  it  appearing  to 
men  foolishness ;^  from  its  containing  matters  of  offence, 
which  have  led,  and  it  must  have  been  foreseen  would 
lead,  into  strange  enthusiasm  and  superstition,  and  be 
made  to  serve  the  purposes  of  tyranny  and  wickedness; 
from  its  not  being  universal;  and,  which  is  a  thing  of 
the  same  kind,  from  its  evidence  not  being  so  convinc- 
ing and  satisfactory  as  it  might  have  been:  for  this  last 
is  sometimes  turned  into  a  positive  argument  against  its 
truth. t  It  would  be  tedious,  indeed  impossible,  to  enu-y 
mcrate  the  several  particulars  comprehended  under  the 
objections  here  referred  to;  the}  being  so  various, 
according  to  tlie  different  fancies  Of  men.  There  are 
persons  who  tliink  it  a  strong  objection  against  the 

*  V.  185.  t  1  Cor.  i.  28.  %  See  Ch.  vi. 


188 


THE  CREDIBILITY  OF  REVELATION 


[Part  IL 


authority  of  Scripture,  that  it  is  not  composed  by  rules  of 
art,  agreed  upon  by  critics,  for  pohte  and  correct  writing. 
And  the  scorn  is  inexpressible,  with  which  some  of  the 
prophetic  parts  of  Scripture  are  treated:  partly  through 
the  rashness  of  interpreters;  but  very  much  also,  on 
account  of  the  hieroglyphical  and  figurative  language,  in 
which  they  are  left  us.  Some  of  the  principal  things  of 
this  sort  shall  be  particularly  considered  in  the  following 
Chapters.  But  my  design  at  present  is  to  observe  in 
general,  with  respect  to  this  whole  way  of  arguing,  that, 
upon  supposition  of  a  revelation,  it  is  highly  credible 
beforehand,  we  should  be  incompetent  judges  of  it  to  a 
great  degree:  and  that  it  would  contain  many  things 
appearing  to  us  liable  to  great  objections;  in  case  we 
judge  of  it  otherwise,  than  by  the  analogy  of  nature. 
And  therefore,  though  objections  against  the  evidence 
of  Christianity  are  most  seriously  to  be  considered ;  yet 
objections  against  Christianity  itself  are,  in  a  great  mea- 
sure, frivolous:  almost  all  objections  against  it,  except- 
ing those  w^hich  are  alleged  against  the  particular  proofs 
of  its  coming  from  God.  I  express  myself  with  caution, 
lest  I  should  be  mistaken  to  vilify  reason ;  which  is 
indeed  the  only  faculty  we  have  wherewith  to  judge 
concerning  any  thing,  even  revelation  itself :  or  be  mis- 
understood to  assert,  that  a  supposed  revelation  cannot 
be  proved  false,  from  internal  characters.  For,  it  may 
contain  clear  immoralities  or  contradictions;  and  either 
of  these  would  prove  it  false.  Nor  will  I  take  upon  me 
to  affirm,  that  nothing  else  can  possibly  render  any  sup- 
posed revelation  incredible.  Yet  still  the  observation 
above,  is,  I  think,  true  beyond  doubt ;  that  objections 
against  Christianity,  as  distinguished  from  objections 
against  its  evidence,  are  frivolous.  To  make  out  this^ 
is  the  general  design  of  the  present  Chapter.  And  with 
regard  to  the  whole  of  it,  I  cannot  but  particularly  wish, 
that  the  proofs  might  be  attended  to;  rather  than  the 
assertions  cavilled  at,  upon  account  of  any  unacceptable 
consequences,  whether  real  or  supposed,  which  may  be 
drawn  from  them.  For,  after  all,  that  which  is  true, 
must  be  admitted,  though  it  should  show  us  the  short- 
ness of  our  faculties;  and  that  we  are  in  no  wise  jud^^ts 


Cmap.  III.]  LIABLE  TO  OBJECTIONS.  189 

of  many  tilings,  of  which  we  are  apt  to  think  ourselves 
very  competent  ones.  Nor  will  this  be  any  objection 
with  reasonable  men,  at  least  upon  second  thought  it 
will  not  be  any  objection  with  such,  against  the  justness 
of  the  following  observations. 

As  God  governs  the  world  and  instructs  his  crea- 
tures, according  to  certain  laws  or  rules,  in  the  known 
course  of  nature  ;  known  by  reason  together  with  ex- 
perience: so  the  Scripture  informs  us  of  a  scheme  of 
divine  Providence,  additional  to  this.  It  relates,  that 
God  has,  by  revelation,  instructed  men  in  things  con- 
cerning his  government,  which  they  could  not  otherwise 
have  known ;  and  reminded  them  of  things,  which 
they  might  otherwise  know ;  and  attested  the  truth  of 
the  whole  by  miracles.  Now  if  the  natural  and  the  re- 
vealed dispensation  of  things  are  both  from  God,  if  they 
coincide  with  each  other,  and  together  make  up  one 
scheme  of  Providence  ;  our  being  incompetent  judges  of 
one,  must  render  it  credible,  that  we  may  be  incompe- 
tent judges  also  of  the  other.  Since,  upon  experience, 
the  acknowledged  constitution  and  course  of  nature  is 
found  to  be  greatly  different  from  what,  before  experi- 
ence, would  have  been  expected ;  and  such  as,  men 
fancy,  there  lie  great  objections  against :  this  renders  it 
beforehand  highly  credible,  that  they  may  find  the  re- 
vealed dispensation  likewise,  if  they  judge  of  it  as  they 
do  of  the  constitution  of  nature,  very  different  from 
expectations  formed  beforehand  ;  and  liable,  in  appear- 
ance, to  great  objections  :  objections  against  the  scheme 
itself,  and  against  the  degrees  and  manners  of  the  mira- 
culous interpositions,  by  which  it  was  attested  and  carried 
on.  Thus,  siippose  a  prince  to  govern  liis  dominions 
in  the  wisest  manner  possible,  by  common  known  laws  ; 
and  that  upon  some  exigencies  he  sliould  suspend  these 
laws  ;  and  govern,  in  several  mstances,  in  a  different 
n^anner ;  if  one  of  his  subjects  were  not  a  com])etent 
judii; '  iKiforehand,  by  what  common  rules  the  government 
sh()\dd  or  would  be  carried  on  ;  it  could  not  be  expected, 
that  the  same  person  would  be  a  competent  judge,  in 
what  exigencies,  or  in  what  manner,  or  to  what  decree, 
those  laws  commonly  observed  would  be  suspended  or 


190  THE  CREDIBILITY  OF  REVELATION.  [Pabt  II. 

deviated  from.  If  he  were  not  a  judge  of  the  wisdom  of 
the  ordinary  administration,  there  is  no  reason  to  think 
he  would  be  a  judge  of  the  wisdom  of  the  extraordinary. 
If  he  thought  he  had  objections  against  the  former; 
doubtless,  it  is  highly  supposable,  he  might  think  also, 
that  he  had  objections  against  the  latter.  And  thus,  as 
we  fall  into  infinite  folhes  and  mistakes,  whenever  we 
pretend,  otherwise  than  from  experience  and  analogy,  to 
judge  of  the  constitution  and  course  of  nature;  it  is  evi- 
dently supposable  beforehand,  that  we  should  fall  into  as 
great,  in  pretending  to  judge,  in  like  manner,  concerning 
revelation.  Nor  is  there  any  more  ground  to  expect 
that  this  latter  should  appear  to  us  clear  of  objections, 
than  that  the  former  should. 

These  observations,  relating  to  the  whole  of  Chris- 
tianity, are  applicable  to  inspiration  in  particular.  As 
we  are  in  no  sort  judges  beforehand,  by  what  laws  or 
rules,  in  what  degree,  or  by  what  means,  it  were  to 
have  been  expected,  that  God  would  naturally  instruct 
us;  so  upon  supposition  of  his  affording  us  light  and 
instruction  by  revelation,  additional  to  what  he  has 
afforded  us  by  reason  and  experience,  we  are  in  no  sort 
judges,  by  what  methods,  and  in  what  proportion,  it 
were  to  be  expected  that  this  supernatural  light  and 
instruction  would  be  afforded  us.  We  know  not  before- 
hand, what  degree  or  kind  of  natural  information  it  were 
to  be  expected  God  would  afford  men,  each  by  his  own 
reason  and  experience:  nor  how  far  he  would  enable 
and  effectually  dispose  them  to  communicate  it,  what- 
ever it  should  be,  to  each  other;  nor  whether  the  evidence 
of  it  would  be  certain,  highly  probable,  or  doubtful;  nor 
whether  it  would  be  given  with  equal  clearness  and 
conviction  to  all.  Nor  could  we  guess,  upon  any 
good  ground  1  mean,  whether  natural  knowledge,  or 
even  the  faculty  itself,  by  which  we  are  capable  of 
attaining  it,  reason,  would  be  given  us  at  once,  or  gra- 
dually. In  like  manner,  we  are  wholly  ignorant,  what 
degree  of  new  knowledge,  it  were  to  be  expected, 
God  would  give  mankind  by  revelation,  upon  supposi- 
tion of  his  affording  one:  or  how  far,  or  in  what  way, 
he  would  interpose  miraculously,  to  qualify  them,  to 


•lAT.  III.]  LIABLE  TO  OBJECTIONS.  1^1 

whom  he  should  originally  make  the  revelation,  for 
communicating  the  knowledge  given  by  it ;  and  to 
secure  their  doing  it  to  the  age  in  which  they  should  hve; 
and  to  secure  its  being  transmitted  to  posterity.  We 
are  equally  ignorant,  whether  the  evidence  of  it  would 
be  certain  or  highly  probable,  or  doubtful:*  or  whether 
all  who  should  have  any  degree  of  instruction  from  it, 
and  any  degree  of  evidence  of  its  truth,  would  have  the 
same:  or  whether  the  scheme  would  be  revealed  at  once, 
or  unfolded  gradually.  Nay  we  are  not  in  any  sort  able 
to  judge,  whether  it  were  to  have  been  expected,  that 
the  revelation  should  have  been  committed  to  writing;  or 
left  to  be  handed  down,  and  consequently  corrupted,  by 
verbal  tradition,  and  at  length  sunk  under  it,  if  mankind 
so  pleased,  and  during  such  time  as  they  are  permitted, 
in  the  degree  they  evidently  are,  to  act  as  they  will. 

But  it  may  be  said,  ^'  that  a  revelation  in  some  of  the 
above  mentioned  circumstances,  one,  for  instance,  which 
was  not  committed  to  writing,  and  thus  secured  against 
danger  of  corruption,  would  not  have  answered  its  pur- 
pose." I  ask,  what  purpose  ?  It  would  not  have  answered 
all  the  purposes,  which  it  has  now  answered,  and  in  the 
same  degree:  but  it  would  have  answered  others,  or 
the  same  in  different  degrees.  And  which  of  these  were 
the  purposes  of  God,  and  best  fell  in  with  his  general 
government,  we  could  not  at  all  have  determintd  before- 
hand. 

Now  since  it  has  been  shown,  that  we  have  no  prin- 
ciples of  reason,  upon  which  to  judge  beforehand,  how  it 
were  to  be  expected  revelation  should  have  been  left,  or 
what  was  most  suitable  to  the  divine  plan  of  government, 
in  any  of  the  forementioned  respects;  it  must  be  quite 
frivolous  to  object  afterward  as  to  any  of  them,  against 
its  being  left  in  one  way,  rather  than  another:  for  this 
would  be  to  object  against  things,  upon  account  of  their 
being  different  from  expectations,  which  have  been  shown 
to  be  without  reason.  And  thus  we  see,  that  the  only 
question  concerning  the  truth  of  Christianity  is,  whether 
it  be  a  real  re\'elation;  not  whether  it  be  attended  with 
every  circumstance  which  we  should  have  looked  for: 

•  See  Chap.  ri. 


192  THE  CREDIBILITY  OF  REVELATION  [Part  It 

and  concerning  the  authority  of  Scripture,  whether  it 
be  what  it  claims  to  be ;  not  whether  it  be  a  book  of 
such  sort,  and  so  promulged,  as  weak  men  are  apt  to 
fancy  a  book  containing  a  divine  revelation  should.  And 
therefore,  neither  obscurity,  nor  seeming  inaccuracy  of 
style,  nor  various  readings,  nor  early  disputes  about 
the  authors  of  particular  parts  ;  nor  any  other  things  of 
the  like  kind,  though  they  had  been  much  more  consid- 
erable in  degree  than  they  are,  could  overthrow  the 
authority  of  the  Scripture  :  unless  the  Prophets,  Apostles, 
or  our  Lord,  had  promised,  that  the  book  containing  the 
divine  revelation  should  -be  secure  from  those  things. 
Nor  indeed  can  any  objections  overthrow  such  a  kind  of 
revelation  as  the  Christian  claims  to  be,  since  there  are 
no  objections  against  the  morality  of  it,*  but  such  as  can 
show,  that  there  is  no  proof  of  miracles  wrought  origi- 
nally in  attestation  of  it ;  no  appearance  of  any  thing 
miraculous  in  its  obtaining  in  the  world  ;  nor  any  of  pro- 
phecy, that  is,  of  events  foretold,  which  human  sagacity 
could  not  foresee.  If  it  can  be  shown,  that  the  proof 
alleged  for  all  these  is  absolutely  none  at  all,  then  is  reve- 
lation overturned.  But  were  it  allowed,  that  the  proof 
of  any  one  or  all  of  them  is  lower  than  is  allowed  ;  yet, 
whilst  any  proof  of  them  remains,  revelation  will  stand 
upon  much  the  same  foot  it  does  at  present,  as  to  all  the 
purposes  of  life  and  practice,  and  ought  to  have  the  like 
influence  upon  our  behaviour. 

From  the  foregoing  observations  too,  it  will  follow,  and 
those  who  will  thoroughly  examine  into  revelation  will 
find  it  worth  remarking ;  that  there  are  several  ways  of 
arguing,  which,  though  just  with  regard  to  other  writings^ 
are  not  applicable  to  Scripture  :  at  least  not  to  the  pro- 
phetic parts  of  it.  We  cannot  argue,  for  instance,  that 
this  cannot  be  the  sense  or  intent  of  such  a  passage  of 
Scripture;  for,  if  it  had,  it  would  have  been  expressed 
more  plainly,  or  have  been  represented  under  a  more 
apt  figure  or  hieroglyphic  :  yet  we  may  justly  argue  thus, 
with  respect  to  common  books.  And  the  reason  of  this 
difference  is  very  evident ;  that  in  Scripture  we  are  not 
competent  judges,  as  we  are  in  common  books,  how 

•  r.  198. 


XJhap.  III.]  LIABLE  TO  OBJECTIONS.  193 

.plainly  it  were  to  have  been  expected,  what  is  the  true 
sense  should  have  been  expressed,  or  under  how  apt  an 
image  figured.  The  only  question  is,  what  appearance 
there  is,  that  this  is  the  sense;  and  scarce  at  all,  how 
much  more  determinately  or  accurately  it  might  have 
been  expressed  or  figured. 

"But  is  it  not  self-evident,  that  internal  improbabilities 
of  all  kinds  weaken  external  probable  procff?"  Doubtless. 
But  to  what  practical  purpose  can  this  be  alleged  here, 
when  it  has  been  proved  before,*  that  real  internal  im- 
probabilities, which  rise  even  to  moral  certainty,  are 
overcome  by  the  most  ordinary  testimony ;  and  when  it 
now  has  been  made  appear,  that  we  scarce  know  what 
are  improbabihties,  as  to  the  matter  we  are  here  con- 
sidering :  as  it  will  further  appear  from  what  follows. 

For  though  from  the  observations  above  made  it  is 
manifest,  that  we  are  not  in  any  sort  competent  judges, 
what  supernatural  instruction  were  to  have  been  expected ; 
and  though  it  is  self-evident,  that  the  objections  of  an 
incompetent  judgment  must  be  frivolous;  yet  it  may  be 
proper  to  go  one  step  further,  and  observe ;  that  if  men 
will  be  regardless  of  these  things,  and  pretend  to  judge 
of  the  Scripture  by  preconceived  expectations;  the  ana- 
logy of  nature  shows  beforehand,  not  only  that  it  is  highly 
credible  they  may,  but  also  probable  that  they  will,  ima- 
gine they  have  strong  objections  against  it,  however 
really  unexceptionable:  for  so,  prior  to  experience,  they 
would  think  they  had,  against  the  circumstances,  and 
degrees,  and  the  whole  manner  of  that  instruction,  which 
is  afforded  by  the  ordinary  course  of  nature.  Were  the 
instruction  which  God  affords  to  brute  creatures  by  in- 
stincts and  mere  propcnsions,  and  to  mankind  by  these 
together  with  reason,  matter  of  proba1)lc  proof,  and  not 
of  certain  observation  ;  it  would  be  rejected  as  incredible, 
in  many  instances  of  it,  only  upon  account  of  the  nieauf 
by  which  this  instruction  is  given,  the  seeming  dispro- 
portions, the  limitations,  necessary  conditions,  and  cir- 
cumstances of  it.  For  instance:  would  it  not  have  ])ccn 
tliought  highly  improbable,  that  men  should  have  been 
so  much  more  capable  of  discovering,  even  to  certainty, 

♦  p.  181. 
N 


194  THE  CREDIBTLITY  OF  REVELATION  [Part  11. 

the  general  laws  of  matter,  and  the  magnitudes,  paths, 
and  revohitions,  of  heavenly  bodies  ;  than  the  occasions 
and  cures  of  distempers,  and  many  other  things,  in  which 
human  hfe  seems  so  much  more  nearly  concerned,  than 
in  astronomy?  How  capricious  and  irregular  a  way  of 
information  would  it  be  said,  is  that  of  invention,  by  means 
of  which  nature  instructs  us  in  matters  of  science,  and  in 
many  thhigs,  upon  which  the  affairs  of  the  world  greatly 
depend:  that  a  man  should,  by  this  faculty,  be  made  ac- 
quainted with  a  thing  in  an  instant,  when  perhaps  he  is 
thinking  of  somewhat  else,  which  he  has  in  vain  been 
searching  after,  it  may  be,  for  years.  So  likewise  the 
imperfections  attending  the  only  method,  by  which  nature 
enables  and  directs  us  to  communicate  our  thoughts  to 
each  other,  are  innumerable.  Language  is,  in  its  very 
nature,  inadequate,  ambiguous,  liable  to  infinite  abuse^ 
even  from  negligence;  and  so  hable  to  it  from  design, 
that  every  man  can  deceive  and  betray  by  it.  And,  to 
mention  but  one  instance  more;  that  brutes,  without 
reason,  should  act,  in  many  respects,  with  a  sagacity  and 
foresight  vastly  greater  than  what  men  have  in  those  re- 
spects, would  be  thought  impossible.  Yet  it  is  certain 
they  do  act  with  such  superior  foresight :  whether  it  be 
their  own,  indeed,  is  another  question.  From  these  things,, 
it  is  highly  credible  beforehand,  that  upon  supposition 
God  should  afford  men  some  additional  instruction  by 
revelation,  it  would  be  with  circumstances,  in  manners, 
degrees,  and  respects,  which  we  should  be  apt  to  fancy 
we  had  great  objections  against  the  credibility  of.  Nor 
are  the  objections  against  the  Scripture,  nor  against 
Christianity  in  general,  at  all  more  or  greater,  than  the 
analogy  of  nature  would  beforehand — not  perhaps  give 
ground  to  expect ;  for  this  analogy  may  not  be  sufficient,, 
in  some  cases,  to  ground  an  expectation  upon;  but  no 
more  nor  greater,  than  analogy  would  show  it,  before- 
hand, to  be  supposable  and  credible,  that  there  might 
seem  to  he  against  revelation. 

By  applying  these  general  observations  to  a  particular 
objection,  it  will  be  more  distinctly  seen,  how  they  are 
applicable  to  others  of  the  like  kind :  and  indeed  to 
almost  all  objections  against  Christianity,  as  distinguished 


Chap,  m.]  LIABLE  TO  OBJECTIONS.  195 

from  objections  against  its  evidence.  It  appears  from 
Scripture,  that,  as  it  was  not  unusual  in  the  apostohc  age, 
for  persons,  upon  their  conversion  to  Christianity,  to  be 
endued  "^'ith  miraculous  gifts;  so,  some  of  those  persons 
exercised  these  gifts  in  a  strangely  irregular  and  disor- 
derly manner ;  and  this  is  made  an  objection  against 
their  beins:  reallv  miraculous.  Now  the  foreo;oin2:  obser- 
vations  quite  remove  this  objection,  how  considerable 
soever  it  may  appear  at  first  sight.  For,  consider  a 
person  endued  w^ith  any  of  these  gifts;  for  instance,  that 
of  tongues :  it  is  to  be  supposed,  that  he  had  the  same 
power  over  this  miraculous  gift,  as  he  would  have  had 
over  it,  had  it  been  the  effect  of  habit,  of  study  and  use, 
as  it  ordinarily  is  ;  or  the  same  power  over  it,  as  he  had 
over  any  other  natural  endowment.  Consequently,  he 
would  use  it  in  the  same  manner  he  did  any  other  ;  either 
regularly,  and  upon  proper  occasions  only,  or  irregularly, 
and  upon  improper  ones:  according  to  his  sense  of  de- 
cency, and  his  character  of  prudence.  Where  then  is  the 
objection.^  Why,  if  this  miraculous  power  was  indeed 
given  to  the  world  to  propagate  Christianity,  and  attest  the 
truth  of  it,  we  might,  it  seems,  have  expected,  that  other 
sort  of  persons  should  have  been  chosen  to  be  invested 
with  it;  or  that  these  should,  at  the  same  time,  have  been 
endued  with  prudence;  or  that  they  should  have  been  con- 
tinually restrained  and  directed  in  the  exercise  of  it:  i.  e. 
that  God  should  have  miraculously  interposed,  if  at  all, 
in  a  different  manner,  or  higher  degree.  But,  from  the 
observations  made  above,  it  is  undeniably  evident,  that 
we  are  not  judge  s  in  what  degrees  and  manners  it  were 
to  have  been  expected  he  should  miracidously  interpose; 
upon  supposition  of  his  doing  it  in  some  degree  and 
manner.  Nor,  in  the  natural  course  of  Providence,  are 
superior  gifts  of  memory,  eloquence,  knowledge,  and 
other  talents  of  great  influence,  conferred  only  on  per- 
sons of  prudence  and  decency,  or  such  as  are  disposed 
to  make  the  properest  use  of  them.  Nor  is  the  instruc- 
tion and  admonition  naturally  afforded  us  for  the  conduct 
of  life,  particularly  in  our  education,  commonly  given  in  a 
manner  the  most  suited  to  recommend  it;  but  often  with 
circumstances  apt  to  prejudice  us  against  such  instruction. 

N  2 


196  THE  CREDIBILITY  OF  REVELATION  [P^rt  II. 

One  might  go  on  to  add,  that  there  is  a  great  resem- 
blance between  the  hght  of  nature  and  of  revelation,  in 
several  other  respects.  Practical  Christianity,  or  that 
faith  and  behaviour  which  renders  a  man  a  Christian,  is 
a  plain  and  obvious  thing :  like  the  common  rules  of 
conduct,  with  respect  to  our  ordinary  temporal  affairs. 
The  more  distinct  and  particular  knowledge  of  those 
things,  the  study  of  which  the  Apostle  calls  going  on  unto 
'perfection*  and  of  the  prophetic  parts  of  revelation, 
like  many  parts  of  natural  and  even  civil  knowledge, 
may  require  very  exact  thought,  and  careful  considera- 
tion. The  hinderances  too,  of  natural,  and  of  superna- 
tural light  and  knowledge,  have  been  of  the  same  kind. 
And  as  it  is  owned  the  whole  scheme  of  Scripture  is 
not  yet  understood ;  so,  if  it  ever  comes  to  be  under- 
stood, before  the  restitution  of  all  things,^  and  without 
miraculous  interpositions ;  it  must  be  in  the  same  way 
as  natural  knowledge  is  come  at:  by  the  continuance 
and  progress  of  learning  and  of  liberty ;  and  by  parti- 
cular persons  attending  to,  comparing,  and  pursuing, 
intimations  scattered  up  and  down  it,  which  are  over- 
looked and  disregarded  by  the  generality  of  the  world. 
For  this  is  the  way,  in  w^iich  all  improvements  are 
made ;  by  thoughtful  men's  tracing  on  obscure  hints,  as 
it  were,  dropped  us  by  nature  accidentally,  or  which 
seem  to  come  into  our  minds  by  chance.  Nor  is  it  at 
all  incredible,  that  a  book,  which  has  been  so  long  in 
the  possession  of  mankind,  should  contain  many  truths 
as  yet  undiscovered.  For,  all  the  same  phenomena, 
and  the  same  faculties  of  investigation,  from  which  such 
great  discoveries  in  natural  knowledge  have  been  made 
in  the  present  and  last  age,  were  equally  in  the  posses- 
sion of  mankind,  several  thousand  years  before.  And 
possibly  it  might  be  intended,  that  events,  as  they  come 
to  pass,  should  open  and  ascertain  the  meaning  of  se- 
veral parts  of  Scripture. 

It  may  be  objected,  that  this  analogy  fails  in  a  mate- 
rial respect:  for  that  natural  knowledge  is  of  little  or  no 
consequence.  But  I  have  been  speaking  of  the  general 
instruction  which  nature  does  or  does  not  afford  us. 


*  lleb.  vi.  1. 


t  Acts  iii.  21. 


Chap.  IIT.]  LIABLE  TO  OBJECTIONS.  197 

And  besides,  some  parts  of  Datural  knowledge,  in  the 
more  common  restrained  sense  of  trie  words,  are  of  the 

f greatest  consequence  to  the  ease  and  convenience  of 
ife.  But  suppose  the  analogy  did,  as  it  does  not,  fail 
in  this  respect;  yet  it  might  be  abundantly  supplied, 
from  the  whole  constitution  and  course  of  nature:  which 
shows,  that  God  does  not  dispense  his  gifts  according  to 
our  notions  of  the  advantage  and  consequence  they 
would  be  of  to  us.  And  this  in  general,  with  his 
method  of  dispensing  knowledge  in  particular,  would 
together  make  out  an  analogy  full  to  the  point  before  us. 

But  it  may  be  objected  still  further  and  more  gene- 
rally ;  "  The  Scripture  represents  the  world  as  in  a  state 
of  ruin,  and  Christianity  as  an  expedient  to  recover  it, 
to  help  in  these  respects  where  nature  fails:  in  particu- 
lar, to  supply  the  deficiencies  of  natural  light.  Is  it 
credible  then,  that  so  many  ages  should  have  been  let 
pass,  before  a  matter  of  such  a  sort,  of  so  great  and  so 
general  importance,  was  made  known  to  mankmd;  and 
then  that  it  should  be  made  known  to  so  small  a  part  of 
them  ?  Is  it  conceivable,  that  this  supply  should  be  so 
very  deficient,  should  have  the  like  obscurity  and  doubt- 
fulness, be  liable  to  the  like  perversions,  in  short,  lie 
open  to  all  the  like  objections,  as  the  light  of  nature 
itself  .P*  Without  determining  how  fiir  this,  in  fact,  is 
so,  I  answer;  it  is  by  no  means  incredible,  that  it  might 
be  so,  if  the  light  of  nature  and  of  revelation  be  from 
the  same  hand.  Men  are  naturally  liable  to  diseases: 
for  which  God,  in  his  good  providence,  has  provided 
natural  remedies. t  But  remedies  existing  in  nature 
have  be(  n  unknown  to  mankind  for  many  ages :  are 
known  but  to  few  now:  probably  many  valuable  ones 
aie  not  known  yet.  Great  has  been  and  is  the  obscu- 
rity and  difficulty,  in  the  nature  and  application  of  them. 
Circumstances  scein  often  to  make  them  very  improper, 
where  they  are  absolutely  necessary.  It  is  after  long 
labour  and  study,  and  many  unsuccessful  endeavours, 
that  they  are  brought  to  be  as  useful  as  they  are;  after 
high  contempt  and  absolute  rejection  of  tlie  most  useful 
we  have;  and  after  disputes  and  doubts,  which  have 

•  Cli.  vi.  -f  Ch.  V. 


198  THE  CREDIBILITY  OF  REVELATION  [Part  II. 

seemed  to  h?  endless.  The  best  remedies  too,  when 
unskilfully,  much  more  if  dishonestly  applied,  may  pro- 
duce new  diseases;  and  with  the  rightest  application 
the  success  of  them  is  often  doubtful.  In  many  cases 
they  are  not  at  all  effectual:  where  they  are,  it  is  often 
very  slowly:  and  the  application  of  them,  and  the  neces- 
sary regimen  accompanying  it,  is,  not  uncommonly,  so 
disagreeable,  that  some  will  not  submit  to  them.;  and 
satisfy  themselves  with  the  excuse,  that,  if  they  would, 
it  is  not  certain  whether  it  would  be  successful.  And 
many  persons,  who  labour  under  diseases,  for  which 
there  are  known  natural  remedies,  are  not  so  happy  as 
to  be  always,  if  ever,  in  the  way  of  them.  In  a  word, 
the  remedies  which  nature  has  provided  for  diseases  are 
neither  certain,  perfect,  nor  universal.  And  indaed  the 
samQ  principles  of  arguing,  which  would  lead  us  to  con- 
clude, that  they  must  be  so,  would  lead  us  likewise  to 
conclude,  that  there  could  be  no  occasion  for  them ;  i.  e. 
that  there  could  be  no  diseases  at  all.  And  therefore 
our  experience  that  there  are  diseases  show*s,  that  it  is 
credible  beforehand,  upon  supposition  nature  has  pro- 
vided remedies  for  them,  that  these  remedies  may  be, 
as  by  experience  we  find  they  are,  not  certain,  nor  per- 
fect, nor  universal;  because  it  shows,  that  the  princi- 
ples upon  which  we  should  expect  the  contrary  are 
fallacious. 

And  now,  what  is  the  just  consequence  from  all  these 
things.^  Not  that  reason  is  no  judge  of  what  is  offered  to 
us  as  being  of  divine  revelation.  For  this  would  be  to 
infer  that  we  are  unable  to  judge  of  any  thing,  because 
we  are  unable  to  judge  of  all  things.  Reason  can,  and 
it  ought  to  judge,  not  only  of  the  meaning,  but  also  of 
the  morality  and  the  evidence  of  revelation.  First,  It  is 
the  province  of  reason  to  judge  of  the  morality  of  the 
Scripture ;  i.  e.  not  whether  it  contains  things  different 
from  what  we  should  have  expected  from  a  wise,  just, 
and  good  Being ;  for  objections  from  hence  have  been 
now  obviated  :  but  whether  it  contains  things  plainly 
contradictory  to  wisdom,  justice,  or  goodness;  to  what  the 
light  of  nature  teaches  us  of  God.  And  I  know  nothing 
of  this  sort  objected  against  Scripture,  excepting  such  ob- 


Chap.  III.] 


LIABLE  TO  OBJECTIONS 


199 


jections  as  are  formed  upon  suppositions,  which  would 
equally  conclude^  that  the  constitution  ot  nature  is  con- 
tradictory to  wisdom,  justice  or  goodness ;  which  most 
certainly  it  is  not.  Indeed  there  are  some  particular 
precepts  in  Scripture,  given  to  particular  persons,  re- 
quiring actions,  which  would  be  immoral  and  vicious, 
were  it  not  for  such  precepts.  But  it  is  easy  to  s:e,  that 
all  these  are  of  such  a  kind,  as  that  the  precept  changes 
the  whole  nature  of  the  case  and  of  the  action  ;  and  both 
constitutes  and  shows  that  not  to  be  unjust  or  immoral, 
which,  prior  to  the  precept,  must  have  appeared  and 
really  have  been  so :  which  may  well  be,  since  none  of 
these  precepts  are  contrary  to  immutable  morality.  If 
it  were  commanded,  to  cultivate  the  principles,  and  act 
from  the  spirit  of  treachery,  ingratitude,  cruelty  ;  the 
command  would  not  alter  the  nature  of  the  case  or  of 
the  action,  in  any  of  these  instances.  But  it  is  quite 
otiierwise  in  precepts,  which  require  only  the  doing  an 
external  action  :  for  instance,  takin2:  away  the  property, 
or  life  of  any.  For  men  have  no  right  to  either  lite  or 
property,  but  what  arises  solely  from  the  grant  of  God  : 
wlu  n  this  grant  is  revoked,  they  cease  to  have  any  right 
at  all  in  either:  and  when  this  revocation  is  made  known, 
as  surely  it  is  possible  it  may  be,  it  must  cease  to  be 
unjust  to  deprive  them  of  either.  And  though  a  course 
of  external  acts,  which  without  command  would  be  im- 
moral, must  make  an  immoral  habit ;  yet  a  few  detached 
commands  have  no  such  natural  tendency.  I  thought 
proper  to  say  thus  much  of  the  few  Scripture  precepts, 
which  require,  not  vicious  actions,  but  actions  which 
would  have  been  vicious,  had  it  not  ha  n  for  such  pre- 
cepts ;  because  they  are  sometimes  weakly  urged  as 
immoral,  and  great  weight  is  laid  upon  objpctions  drawn 
from  them.  But  to  me  there  seems  no  difticuky  at  all 
in  these  prec^  pts,  but  what  arises  from  their  beinc:  of- 
fences :  I.  c.  from  their  being  liable  to  be  perverted,  as 
indeed  thev  are,  by  wicked  designing  men,  to  serve  the 
most  horrid  purposes  ;  and,  perhaps,  to  mislead  the  weak 
and  enthusiastic.  And  (objections  from  this  head  are  i-ot 
obj.'  ctions  agamst  revelation  ;  but  aiiamsi  the  whole 
notion  of  religion,  as  a  trial :  and  against  the  general 


200  THE  CREDIBILITY  OF  REVELATION,  &C.  [Part 

constitution  of  nature.  Secondly,  Reason  is  al)le  to  judge^ 
and  must,  of  the  evidence  of  revelation,  and  of  the  ob- 
jections urged  against  that  evidence :  which  shall  be  the 
subject  of  a  following  Chapter.* 

But  the  consequence  of  the  foregoing  observations  is^ 
that  the  question  upon  which  the  truth  of  Christianity 
depends  is  scarce  at  all,  what  objections  there  are  against 
its  scheme,  since  there  are  none  against  the  morality  of 
it ;  but  what  objections  there  are  against  its  evidence  ;  or, 
v^hat  proof  there  remains  of  it,  after  due  allowances  made 
for  the  objections  against  that  proof:  because  it  has  been 
shown,  that  the  objections  against  Christianity,  as  distin- 
guished from  objections  against  its  evidence,  are  frivolous. 
For  surely  very  little  weight,  if  any  at  all,  is  to  be  laid 
upon  a  way  of  arguing  and  objecting,  which,  when  ap- 
plied to  the  general  constitution  of  nature,  experience 
shows  not  to  be  conclusive:  and  such,  I  think,  is  the 
whole  way  of  objecting  treated  of  throughout  this  Chap- 
ter. It  is  resolvable  into  principles,  and  goes  upon  sup- 
positions, which  mislead  us  to  think,  that  the  Author  of 
Nature  would  not  act,  as  we  experience  he  does;  or 
would  act,  in  such  and  such  cases,  as  we  experience  he 
does  not  in  like  cases.  But  the  unreasonableness  of 
this  way  of  objecting  will  appear  yet  more  evidently  from 
hence,  that  the  chief  things  thus  objected  against  are 
justified,  as  shall  be  further  shown,!  by  distinct,  parti- 
cular, and  full  analogies,  in  the  constitution  and  course  of 
nature. 

But  it  is  to  be  remembered,  that,  as  frivolous  as  ob- 
jections of  the  foregoing  sort  against  revelation  are,  yet, 
when  a  supposed  revelation  is  more  consistent  with  itself, 
and  has  a  more  general  and  uniform  tendency  to  pro- 
mote virtue,  than,  all  circumstances  considered,  could 
have  been  expected  from  enthusiasm  and  political  views; 
this  is  a  presumptive  proof  of  its  not  proceeding  from 
them,  and  so  of  its  truth:  because  we  are  competent 
judges,  what  might  have  been  expected  from  enthusiasn*  - 
and  pohtical  views. 

*  Cbap.  viL  f  Ch,  iv.  latter  part,  and  v.  vi. 


Caip.  IV.J 


CHRISTIANITY  A  SCHEME,  ETC. 


201 


CHAP.  IV. 

OF  CHRISTIANITY,  CONSIDERED  AS  A  SCHEME  OR  CONSTI- 
TUTION, IMPERFECTLY  COMPREHENDED. 

It  hath  been  now  shown,*  that  the  analogy  of  nature 
renders  it  highly  credible  beforehand,  that,  supposing  ^ 
revelation  to  be  made,  it  must  contain  many  things  very 
different  from  what  we  should  have  expected,  and  such 
as  appear  open  to  great  objections:  and  that  this  obser- 
vation, in  good  measure,  takes  off  the  force  of  those  ob- 
jections, or  rather  precludes  them.  But  it  may  be  alleged, 
that  this  is  a  very  partial  answer  to  such  objections,  or  a 
very  unsatisfactory  way  of  obviating  them  :  because  it 
doth  not  show  at  all,  that  the  things  objected  against  can 
be  wise,  just,  and  good;  much  less,  that  it  is  credible 
they  are  so.  It  will  therefore  be  proper  to  show  this 
distinctly;  by  applying  to  these  objections  against  the 
wisdom,  justice,  and  goodness  of  Christianity,  the  answer 
abovet  given  to  the  like  objections  against  the  constitu- 
tion of  Nature:  before  we  consider  the  particular  analo- 
gies in  the  latter,  to  the  particular  things  objected  against 
in  the  former.  Now  that  Avhich  affords  a  sufficient 
answer  to  objections  against  the  wisdom,  justice,  and 
goodness  of  the  constitution  of  Nature,  is  its  being  a  con- 
stitution, a  system,  or  scheme,  imperfectly  comprehended ; 
a  scheme  in  which  means  are  made  use  of  to  accomplish 
ends ;  and  which  is  carried  on  by  general  laws.  For 
from  these  things  it  has  been  proved,  not  only  to  be 
])()ssil)le,  but  also  to  be  credible,  that  those  things  which 
are  objected  against  may  be  consistent  with  wisdom, 
justice,  and  goodness ;  nay,  may  be  instances  of  them  : 
and  even  that  the  constitution  and  government  of  Nature 
may  be  perfect  in  the  highest  possible  degree.  If  Chris- 
tianity then  be  a  scheme,  and  of  tlu^  like  kind  ;  it  is  evi- 
dent, the  like  objections  against  it  nmst  admit  of  the  like 
answer.  And, 

^  Tn  the  forpgoinjf  ChapU  r. 
f  Pnrt  T.  fh.  \  ii.  lo  wliicli  ihis  nil  n\oi\^  rrfrrs. 


^02  CHRISTIANITY  A  SCHEME  [Part  II. 

I.  Christianity  is  a  scheme,  quite  beyond  our  compre- 
hension. The  moral  government  of  God  is  exercised, 
by  gradually  conducting  things  so  in  the  course  of  his 
providence,  that  every  one,  at  length  and  upon  the 
whole,  shall  receive  according  to  his  deserts  ;  and  neither 
fraud  nor  violence,  but  truth  and  right,  shall  finally  pre- 
vail. Christianity  is  a  particular  scheme  under  this  ge- 
neral plan  of  Providence,  and  a  part  of  it,  conducive  to 
its  completion,  with  regard  to  mankind :  consisting  itself 
also  of  various  parts,  and  a  mysterious  economy,  which 
has  been  carrying  on  from  the  time  the  world  came  into 
its  present  wretched  state,  and  is  still  carrying  on,  for  its 
recovery,  by  a  divine  person,  the  Messiah  ;  who  is  to 
gather  together  in  one  the  children  of  God,  that  are  scatter- 
ed abroad,'^  and  establish  an  everlasting  kingdom,  wherein 
dwelleth  righteousness. \  And  in  order  to  it ;  after  various 
manifestations  of  things,  relating  to  this  great  and  gene- 
ral scheme  of  Providence,  through  a  succession  of  many 
ages:  (For  the  Spirit  of  Christ  which  was  in  the  prophets, 
testified  beforehand  his  sufferings,  and  the  glory  that  should 
follow  :  unto  whom  it  was  i^evealed,  that  not  unto  themselves, 
but  unto  us  they  did  minister  the  things  which  are  now  re- 
ported unto  us  by  them  that  have  preached  the  Gospel; 
which  things  the  angels  desire  to  look  into  :t) — after  various 
dispensations  looking  forward  and  preparatory  to,  this 
final  salvation :  in  the  fulness  of  time,  when  infinite  wis- 
dom thought  fit ;  He,  being  in  the  form  of  God, — made 
himself  of  no  reputation,  and  took  upon  him  the  form  of  a 
servant,  and  was  made  in  the  likeness  of  men :  and  being 
found  in  fashion  as  a  man,  he  humbled  himself  and  became 
obedient  to  death,  even  the  death  of  the  cross:  wherefore 
God.  also  hath  highly  exalted  him,  and  given  him  a  name, 
which  is  above  every  name  :  that  at  the  name  of  Jems  every 
knee  should  bow,  of  things  in  heaven,  and  things  in  the 
earth,  and  things  under  the  earth  :  and  that  every  tongue 
should  confess,  that  Jesus  Christ  is  Lord,  to  the  glory  of 
God  the  Father.^  Parts  likewise  of  this  economy  are  the 
miraculous  mission  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  his  ordinary 
assistances  given  to  good  men  :  tlie  invisible  government, 
which  Christ  at  present  exercises  over  his  church :  that 

*  John  ri.  52.  t  ^  ^3.  t  1  Vet.  \.  11,  12.  <J  Phil  iL 


Chap.  IV.]  IMPERFECTLY  COMPREHENDED.  203 

which  he  himself  refrrs  to  in  these  words  ;  In  my  Father  s 
house  are  many  mansions — /  go  to  prepare  a  place  for 
you  :*  and  his  future  return  to  judye  the  world  in  right- 
eousnessy  and  completely  re-establish  the  kingdom  of 
God.  For  the  Father  judgeth  no  man;  but  hath  committed 
all  judgment  unto  the  Son  :  that  all  men  should  honour  the 
Son,  even  as  they  honour  the  Father  A  All  power  is  given 
unto  him  in  heaven  and  in  earth.X  And  he  must  reign,  till 
he  hath  put  all  enemies  under  his  feet.  Then  comet h  the 
end,  ivhen  he  shall  have  delivered  up  the  kingdom  to  God, 
even  the  Father  ;  when  he  shall  have  put  down  all  rule,  and 
all  authority  and  power.  And  when  all  things  shall  be 
.subdued  unto  him,  then  shall  the  Son  also  himself  be  sub- 
ject unto  him  that  put  all  things  under  him,  that  God  may 
be  all  in  all.l  Now  little,  surely,  need  be  said  to  show, 
that  this  system,  or  scheme  of  things,  is  but  imperfectly 
comprehended  by  us.  The  Scripture  expressly  asserts  it 
to  be  so.  And  indeed  one  cannot  read  a  passage  relat- 
ing to  this  great  mystery  of  godliness,\\  but  what  immedi- 
ately runs  up  into  something  which  shows  us  our  igno- 
rance in  it;  as  every  thing  in  nature  shows  us  our  igno- 
rance in  the  constitution  of  nature.  And  whoever  will 
seriously  consider  that  part  of  the  Christian  scheme, 
which  is  revealed  in  Scripture,  will  find  so  much  more 
unrevealed,  as  will  convince  him,  that,  to  all  the  pur- 
poses of  judging  and  objecting,  we  know  as  little  of  it,  as 
of  the  constitution  of  nature.  Our  ignorance,  therefore, 
is  as  much  an  answer  to  our  objections  against  the  per- 
fection of  one,  as  against  the  perfection  of  the  other.f 

II.  It  is  obvious  too,  that  in  the  Christian  dispen- 
sation, as  much  as  in  the  natural  scheme  of  things, 
means  are  made  use  of  to  accomplish  ends.  And  the 
observation  of  this  furnishes  us  with  the  same  answer, 
to  objections  against  the  perfection  of  Christianity,  as  to 
objections  of  the  like  kind,  against  the  constitution  of 
nature.  It  shows  tiie  credibihty,  that  the  things  object- 
ed against,  how  foolish**  soever  they  appear  to  men, 
may  be  the  very  best  means  of  accomphsliing  tlic  very 
best  ends.    And  their  appearing  foolishness  is  no  pre- 


John  xiv.  2.  f  John  v.  22,  i?3.  %  Mntth.  xxviii.  18. 

II  1  Tim.  iiu  10.  ^  I».  1j3,  .S.c.  1  Cor.  i. 


204  CHRISTIANITY  A  SCHEME  [Paot  TL 

sumption  against  this,  in  a  scheme  so  greatly  beyond 
our  comprehension.* 

III.  The  credibiHty,  that  the  Christian  dispensation 
may  have  been,  all  along,  carried  on  by  general  laws,t 
no  less  than  the  course  of  nature,  may  require  to  be 
more  distinctly  made  out.    Consider  then,  upon  what 
ground  it  is  we  say,  that  the  whole  common  course  of 
nature  is  carried  on  according  to  general  fore-ordained 
laws.    We  know  indeed  several  of  the  general  laws  of 
matter:  and  a  great  part  of  the  natural  behaviour  of  liv- 
ing agents  is  reducible  to  general  laws.    But  we  know 
in  a  manner  nothing,  by  what  laws,  storms  and  tem- 
pests, earthquakes,    famine,    pestilence,    become  the 
instruments  of  destruction  to  mankind.    And  the  laws, 
by  which  persons  born  into  the  world  at  such  a  time 
and  place  are  of  such  capacities,  geniuses,  tempers  ;  the 
laws,  by  which  thoughts  come  into  our  mind,  in  mul- 
titude of  cases;  and  by  which  innumerable  things  hap- 
pen, of  the  greatest  influence  upon  the  affairs  and  state 
of  the  world;  these  laws  are  so  wholly  unknown  to  us, 
that  we  call  the  events,  which  come  to  pass  by  them, 
accidental:  though  all  reasonable  men  know  certainly, 
that  there  cannot,  in  reality,  be  any  such  thing  as  chance  ; 
and  conclude,  that  the  things  which  have  this  appear- 
ance are  the  result  of  general  laws,  and  may  be  reduced 
into  them.    It  is  then  but  an  exceeding  little  way,  and 
in  but  a  very  few  respects,  that  we  can  trace  up  the  na- 
tural course  of  things  before  us,  to  general  laws.  And 
it  is  only  from  analogy,  that  we  conclude  the  whole  of  it 
to  be  capable  of  being  reduced  into  them:  only  from 
our  seeing,  that  part  is  so.    It  is  from  our  finding,  that 
the  course  of  nature,  in  some  respects  and  so  far,  goes 
on  by  general  laws,  that  we  conclude  this  of  the  rest. 
And  if  that  be  a  just  ground  for  such  a  conclusion,  it  is 
a  just  ground  also,  if  not  to  conclude,  yet  to  apprehend, 
to  render  it  supposable  and  credible,  which  is  sufficient 
for  answering  objections,  that  God's  miraculous  inter- 
positions may  have  been,  all  along  in  like  manner,  by 
general  laws  of  wisdom.    Thus,  that  miraculous  powers 
should  be  exerted,  at  such  times,  upon  such  occasions, 

*  p.  IGG,  157.  +  p.  158,  169. 


Chap.  IV.]  IMPERFECTLY  COMPREHENDED.  205 

in  such  degrees  and  manners,  and  with  regard  to  such 
persons,  rather  than  others ;  that  the  affairs  of  the  world, 
being  permitted  to  go  on  in  their  natural  course  so  far, 
should,  just  at  such  a  point,  have  a  new  direction  given 
them  by  miraculous  interpositions;  that  these  interpo- 
sitions should  be  exactly  in  such  degrees  and  respects 
only;  all  this  may  have  been  by  general  laws.  These 
laws  are  unknown  indeed  to  us :  but  no  more  unknown 
than  the  laws  from  whence  it  is,  that  some  die  as  soon 
as  they  are  born,  and  others  live  to  extrerr^  old  age; 
that  one  man  is  so  superior  to  another  in  understanding; 
with  innumerable  more  things,  which,  as  was  before 
observed,  we  cannot  reduce  to  any  laws  or  rules  at  all, 
though  it  is  taken  for  granted,  they  are  as  much  reduci- 
ble to  general  ones,  as  gravitation.  Now,  if  the  revealed 
dispensations  of  Providence,  and  miraculous  interposi- 
tions, be  by  general  laws,  as  well  as  God's  ordinary 
government  in  the  course  of  nature,  made  known  by 
reason  and  experience;  there  is  no  more  reason  to 
expect  that  every  exigence,  as  it  arises,  should  be  pro- 
vided for  by  these  general  laws  or  miraculous  interposi- 
tions, than  that  every  exigence  in  nature  should,  by  the 
general  laws  of  nature:  yet  there  might  be  wise  and 
good  reasons,  that  miraculous  interpositions  should  be 
by  general  laws;  and  that  these  laws  should  not  be 
broken  in  upon,  or  deviated  from,  by  other  miracles 

Upon  the  whole,  then,  the  appearance  of  deficiencies 
and  irregularities  in  nature  is  owing  to  its  being  a  scheme 
but  in  part  made  known,  and  of  such  a  certain  particular 
kind  in  other  respects.  Now  we  see  no  more  reason 
why  the  frame  and  course  of  nature  should  be  such  a 
scheme,  than  why  Christianity  should.  And  that  the 
former  is  such  a  scheme,  renders  it  credible,  that  the 
latter,  upon  supposition  of  its  truth,  may  be  so  too. 
And  as  it  is  manifest,  that  Christianity  is  a  scheme 
revealed  but  in  part,  and  a  scheme  in  which  means  are 
made  use  of  to  accomplish  ends,  like  to  that  of  nature: 
so  the  credibility,  that  it  may  have  been  all  alonix  carried 
on  by  general  laws,  no  less  than  the  course  of  nature, 
has  been  distinctly  proved.  And  from  all  this  it  is 
beforehand  credible  that  there  might,  I  think  probable 


206  CHRISTIANITY  A  SCHEME  [P.art  II. 

that  there  would,  be  the  hke  appearance  of  deficiencies 
and  irregularities  in  Christianity,  as  in  nature :  i.  e.  that 
Christianity  would  be  hable  to  the  hke  objections,  as 
the  frame  of  nature.  And  these  objections  are  answered 
by  these  observations  concerning  Christianity;  as  the 
hke  objections  against  the  frame  of  nature  are  answered 
by  the  like  observations  concerning  the  frame  of  nature. 

The  objections  against  Christianity,  considered  as  a 
matter  of  fact,*  having,  in  general,  been  obviated  in  the 
preceding  Chapter;  and  the  same,  considered  as  made 
against  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  it,  having  been 
obviated  in  this :  the  next  thing,  according  to  the  method 
proposed,  is  to  show,  that  the  principal  objections,  in 
particular,  against  Christianity,  may  be  answered,  by 
particular  and  full  analogies  in  nature.  And  as  one  of 
them  is  made  against  the  whole  scheme  of  it  together, 
as  just  now  described,  I  choose  to  consider  it  here, 
rather  than  in  a  distinct  Chapter  by  itself.  The  thing 
objected  against  this  scheme  of  the  Gospel  is,  "  that  it 
seems  to  suppose  God  was  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  a 
long  series  of  intricate  means,  in  order  to  accomplish  his 
ends,  the  recovery  and  salvation  of  the  world:  in  like 
sort  as  men,  for  want  of  understanding  or  power,  not 
being  able  to  come  at  their  ends  directly,  are  forced  to 
go  round-about  ways,  and  make  use  of  many  perplexed 
contrivances  to  arrive  at  them."  Now  every  thing  which 
we  see  shows  the  folly  of  this,  considered  as  an  objection 
against  the  truth  of  Christianity.  For,  according  to  our 
manner  of  conception,  God  makes  use  of  variety  of 
means,  what  we  often  think  tedious  ones,  in  the  natural 
course  of  providence,  for  the  accomplishment  of  all 
his  ends.  Indeed  it  is  certain  there  is  somewhat  in 
this  matter  quite  beyond  our  comprehension:  but  the 
mystery  is  as  great  in  nature  as  in  Christianity.  We 
know  what  we  ourselves  aim  at,  as  final  ends:  and  what 
courses  we  take,  merely  as  means  conducing  to  those 
ends.  But  we  are  greatly  ignorant  how  far  things  are 
considered  by  the  Author  of  Nature,  under  the  single 
notion  of  means  and  ends ;  so  as  that  it  may  be  said, 

*  p.  149,  &c. 


CUAi.  iV  .] 


I M  P E itr  EC T L Y  COMPREHENDED. 


207 


this  is  merely  an  end,  and  that  merely  means,  in  his 
regard.  And  whether  there  be  not  some  peculiar  absur- 
dity in  our  very  mannev  of  coiiception,  concerning  this 
matter,  somewhat  contradictory  prising  from  our  ex- 
tremely imperfect  views  of  things,  it  is  impossible  to 
say.  However,  thus  much  is  manifest,  that  the  whole 
natural  w^orld  and  government  of  it  is  a  scheme  or  sys- 
tem ;  not  a  fixed,  but  a  progressive  one :  a  schem.e  in 
which  the  operation  of  various  means  takes  up  a  great 
length  of  time,  before  the  ends  they  tend  to  can  be 
attained.  The  change  of  seasons,  the  ripening  of  the 
fruits  of  the  earth,  the  very  history  of  a  flower,  is  an 
instance  of  this  :  and  so  is  human  life.  Thus  vegetable 
bodies,  and  those  of  animals,  though  possibly  formed  at 
once,  yet  grow  up  by  degrees  to  a  mature  state.  And 
thus  rational  agents,  who  animate  these  latter  bodies,  are 
naturally  directed  to  form  each  his  own  manners  and 
character,  by  the  gradual  gaining  of  knowledge  and  ex- 
perience, and  by  a  long  course  of  action.  Our  existence 
is  not  only  successive,  as  it  must  be  of  necessity  ;  but 
one  state  of  our  life  and  being  is  appointed  by  God,  to 
be  a  preparation  for  another ;  and  that  to  be  the  means 
of  attaining  to  another  succeeding  one:  infancy  to  child- 
hood; childhood  to  youth;  youth  to  mature  age.  Men 
are  impatient,  and  for  precipitating  things :  but  the 
Author  of  Nature  appears  deliberate  throughout  his  ope- 
rations; accomplishing  his  natural  ends  by  slow  successive 
steps.  And  there  is  a  plan  of  things  beforehand  laid 
out,  which,  from  the  nature  of  it,  requires  various  sys- 
tems of  means,  as  well  as  1(  ngth  of  tim->,  in  order  to  the 
carrying  on  its  several  parts  into  execution.  Thus,  in 
the  daily  course  of  natural  providence,  God  operates  in 
the  very  same  manner,  as  m  the  dispensation  of  Chris- 
tianity ;  making  one  thing  subservient  to  another;  this, 
to  somewhat  further;  and  soon,  (hrctiuh  a  progressive 
series  of  means,  which  extend,  both  backward  and  for- 
ward, beyond  our  utmost  view.  Of  this  maimer  of 
operation,  every  thing  we  see  in  the  course  of  nature  is 
as  much  an  instance,  as  any  part  of  the  ('hristian 
dispensation. 


208 


THE  APPOINTMENT  OP 


[PartII. 


CHAP.  V. 

OF  THE  PARTICULAR  SYSTEM  OF  CHRISTIANITY;  THE 
APPOINTMENT  OF  A  MEDIATOR,  AND  THE  REDEMPTION 
OF  THE  WORLD  BY  HIM. 

There  is  not,  I  think,  any  thing  relating  to  Christi- 
anity, which  has  been  more  objected  against,  than  the 
mediation  of  Christ,  in  some  or  other  of  its  parts.  Yet 
upon  thorough  consideration,  there  seems  nothing  less 
justly  liable  to  it.  For, 

I.  The  whole  analogy  of  nature  removes  all  imagined 
presumption  against  the  general  notion  of  a  Mediator 
beticeen  God  and  man*  For  we  find  all  living  creatures 
are  brought  into  the  world,  and  their  life  in  infancy  is 
preserved,  by  the  instrumentality  of  others;  and  every 
satisfaction  of  it,  some  way  or  other,  is  bestowed  by  the 
like  means.  So  that  the  visible  government,  which  God 
exercises  over  the  world,  is  by  the  instrumentahty  and 
mediation  of  others.  And  how  far  his  invisible  govern- 
ment be  or  be  not  so,  it  is  impossible  to  determine  at  all 
by  reason.  And  the  supposition,  that  part  of  it  is  so, 
appears,  to  say  the  least,  altogether  as  credible,  as  the 
contrary.  There  is  then  no  sort  of  objection,  from  the 
light  of  nature,  against  the  general  notion  of  a  mediator 
between  God  and  man,  considered  as  a  doctrine  of 
Christianity,  or  as  an  appointment  in  this  dispensation: 
since  we  find  by  experience,  that  God  does  appoint  medi- 
ators, to  be  the  instruments  of  good  and  evil  to  us:  the 
instruments  of  his  justice  and  his  mercy.  And  the  ob- 
jection here  referred  to  is  urged,  not  against  mediation 
in  that  high,  eminent,  and  pecuhar  sense,  in  which  Christ 
is  our  mediator;  but  absolutely  against  the  whole  notion 
itself  of  a  mediator  at  all. 

IT.  As  we  must  suppose,  that  the  world  is  under  the 
proper  moral  government  of  God,  or  in  a  state  of  religion, 
before  we  can  enter  into  consideration  of  the  revealed 
doctrine,  concerning  the  redemption  of  it  by  Christ:  so 

*  1  Tim.  ii,  5. 


CnAP.  v.]  A  MEDIATOR  AND  REDEEMER.  209 

that  supposition  is  here  to  be  distinctly  taken  notice  of. 
Now  the  divine  moral  government  which  religion  teaches 
lis,  implies,  that  the  consequence  of  vice  shall  be  misery, 
in  some  future  state,  by  the  righteous  judgment  of  God. 
That  such  consequent  punishment  shall  take  effect  by  his 
appointment,  is  necessarily  imphed.  But,  as  it  is  not  in 
any  sort  to  be  supposed,  that  we  are  made  acquainted 
with  all  the  ends  or  reasons,  for  which  it  is  fit  future 
punishments  should  be  inflicted,  or  why  God  has  ap- 
pointed such  and  such  consequent  misery  should  follow 
vice ;  and  as  we  are  altogether  in  the  dark,  how  or  in 
what  manner  it  shall  follow,  by  what  immediate  occa- 
sions,  or  by  the  instrumentality  of  what  means;  there  is 
no  absurdity  in  supposing  it  m.ay  follow  in  a  way  analo- 
gous to  that,  in  which  many  miseries  follow  such  and 
such  courses  of  action  at  present;  poverty,  sickness,  in- 
famy, untimely  death  by  diseases,  death  from  the  hands 
of  civil  justice.  There  is  no  absurdity  in  supposing 
future  punishment  may  follow  wickedness  of  course,  as 
we  speak,  or  in  the  way  of  natural  consequence  from 
God's  original  constitution  of  the  world :  from  the  nature 
he  has  given  us,  and  from  the  condition  in  which  he 
places  us  ;  or  in  a  like  manner,  as  a  person  rashly  trifling 
upon  a  precipice,  in  the  way  of  natural  consequence,  falls 
down ;  in  the  way  of  natural  consequence,  breaks  his 
limbs,  suppose;  in  the  way  of  natural  consequence  of 
this,  without  help,  perishes. 

Some  good  men  may  perhaps  be  offended  with  hear- 
ing it  spoken  of  as  a  supposable  thing  that  future  punish- 
ments of  wickedness  may  be  in  the  way  of  natural  con- 
sequence :  as  if  this  were  taking  the  execution  of  justice 
out  of  the  hands  of  God,  and  giving  it  to  nature.  But 
they  should  remember,  that  when  things  come  to  pass 
according  to  the  course  of  nature,  this  does  not  hinder 
them  from  bcins:  his  doing,  who  is  the  God  of  nature  : 
and  that  the  Scrij)ture  ascribes  those  ])iniisluuents  to 
divine  justice,  which  are  known  to  be  natural  ;  and  which 
must  be  called  so,  when  distinguished  from  such  as  are 
miraculous.  But  after  all,  this  siq)positi(»n,  or  rather 
this  way  of  speaking,  is  here  made  use  of  only  byway  of 
illustration  of  the  subject  before  us.    For  since  it  must 

o 


210  THE  APPOINTMENT  OF  [Part  IL 

be  admitted,  that  the  future  punishment  of  wickedness  is 
not  a  matter  of  arbitrary  appointment,  but  of  reason, 
equity,  and  justice  ;  it  comes,  for  ought  I  see,  to  the  same 
thing,  whether  it  is  supposed  to  be  inflicted  in  a  way 
analogous  to  that,  in  which  the  temporal  punishments  of 
vice  and  folly  are  inflicted,  or  in  any  other  way.  And 
though  there  were  a  difference,  it  is  allowable,  in  the 
present  case,  to  make  this  supposition,  plainly  not  an  in- 
credible one ;  that  future  punishment  may  follow  wicked- 
ness in  the  way  of  natural  consequence,  or  according  to 
some  general  laws  of  government  already  established  in 
the  universe. 

III.  Upon  this  supposition,  or  even  w^ithout  it,  we 
may  observe  somewhat,  much  to  the  present  purpose,  in 
the  constitution  of  nature  or  appointments  of  Providence: 
the  provision  which  is  made,  that  all  the  bad  natural 
consequences  of  men's  actions  should  not  always  actually 
follow ;  or  that  such  bad  consequences,  as,  according  to 
the  settled  course  of  things,  would  inevitably  have  fol- 
lowed if  not  prevented,  should,  in  certain  degrees,  be 
prevented.  W e  are  apt  presumptuously  to  imagine, 
that  the  world  might  have  been  so  constituted,  as  that 
there  would  not  have  been  any  such  thing  as  misery  or 
evil.  On  the  contrary  we  find  the  Author  of  Nature 
permits  it:  but  then  he  has  provided  reliefs,  and  in  many 
cases  perfect  remedies  for  it,  after  some  pains  and  diffi- 
culties; reliefs  and  remedies  even  for  that  evil,  wd^ich  is 
the  fruit  of  our  own  misconduct;  and  which,  in  the 
course  of  nature,  would  have  continued,  and  ended  in 
our  destruction,  but  for  such  remedies.  And  this  is  an 
instance  both  of  severity  and  of  indulgence,  in  the  con- 
stitution of  nature.  Thus  all  the  bad  consequences,  now 
mentioned,  of  a  man's  trifling  upon  a  precipice,  miglit 
be  prevented.  And  though  all  were  not,  yet  some  of 
them  might,  by  proper  interposition,  if  not  rejected :  by 
another's  coming  to  the  rash  man's  relief,  widi  his  own 
laying  hold  on  that  relief,  in  such  sort  as  the  case  re- 
quired. Persons  may  do  a  great  deal  themselves  towards 
preventing  the  bad  consequences  of  their  follies:  and 
more  may  be  done  by  themselves,  together  with  the 
assistance  of  others  their  fellow  creatures  ;  which  assist- 


Chap.  V.] 


A  MEDIATOR  AND  REDEEMER. 


211 


ance  nature  requires  and  prompts  iis  to.  This  is  the 
general  constitution  of  the  world.  Now  suppose  it  had 
been  so  constituted,  that  after  such  actions  were  done,  as 
were  foreseen  naturally  to  draw  after  them  misery  to  the 
doer,  it  should  have  been  no  more  in  human  power  to 
have  prevented  that  naturally  consequent  misery,  in  any 
instance,  than  it  is  in  all :  no  one  can  say,  whether  such 
a  more  severe  constitution  of  things  might  not  yet  have 
been  really  good.  But,  that,  on  the  contrarv,  provision 
is  made  by  nature,  that  we  may  and  do,  to  so  great  de- 
gree, prevent  the  bad  natural  effects  of  our  follies;  this 
may  be  called  mercy  or  compassion  in  the  original  con- 
stitution of  the  w^orld:  compassion,  as  distinguished  from 
goodness  in  general.  And,  the  whole  known  constitu- 
tion and  course  of  things  affording  us  instances  of  such 
compassion,  it  would  be  according  to  the  analogy  of  na- 
ture, to  hope,  that,  however  ruinous  the  natural  conse- 
quences of  vice  might  be,  from  the  general  laws  of  God's 
government  over  the  universe ;  yet  provision  might  be 
made,  possibly  might  have  been  originally  made,  for 
preventing  those  ruinous  consequences  from  inevitably 
following :  at  least  from  following  universally,  and  in  all 
cases. 

Many,  I  am  sensible,  will  wonder  at  finding  this  made 
a  question,  or  spoken  of  as  in  any  degree  doubtful.  The 
generality  of  mankind  are  so  far  from  having  that  awful 
sense  of  things,  which  the  present  state  of  vice  and  misery 
and  darkness  seems  to  make  but  reasonable,  that  they 
have  scarce  any  apprehension  or  thought  at  all  about 
this  matter,  any  way:  and  some  serious  persons  may 
have  spoken  unadvisedly  concerning  it.  But  let  us  ob- 
serve, what  we  experience  to  be,  and  what,  from  the 
very  constitution  of  nature,  cannot  but  be,  the  conse- 
quences of  irregular  and  disorderly  behaviour :  even  of 
such  rashness,  wilfulness,  neglects,  as  we  scarce  call  vi- 
cious. Now  it  is  natural  to  apprehend,  that  the  bad  con- 
sequences of  irreguleirity  will  be  greater,  in  proportion  as 
the  irregularity  is  so.  And  there  is  no  comparison  be- 
tween these  irregularities,  and  the  greater  instances  of 
vice,  or  a  dissolute  profligate  disregard  to  all  religion ;  if 
there  be  any  thinir  at  all  in  religion.    For  consider  whai 


212  THE  APPOINTMENT  OF  [Part  H: 

it  is  for  creatures,  moral  agents,  presumptuously  to  in- 
troduce that  confusion  and  misery  into  the  kingdom  of 
God,  which  mankind  have  in  fact  introduced:  to  blas- 
pheme the  Sovereign  Lord  of  all ;  to  contemn  his  autho- 
rity ;  to  be  injurious,  to  the  degree  they  are,  to  their  fel- 
low creatures,  the  creatures  of  God.  Add  that  the  effects 
of  vice  in  the  present  world  are  often  extreme  misery, 
.irretrievable  ruin,  and  even  death :  and  upon  putting  all 
this  together,  it  will  appear,  that  as  no  one  can  say,  in 
what  degree  fatal  the  unprevented  consequences  of  vice 
may  be,  according  to  the  general  rule  of  divine  govern- 
ment ;  so  it  is  by  no  means  intuitively  certain,  how  far 
these  consequences  could  possibly,  in  the  nature  of  the 
thing,  be  prevented,  consistently  with  the  eternal  rule  of 
right,  or  with  what  is,  in  fact,  the  moral  constitution  of 
nature.  However,  there  would  be  large  ground  to  hope, 
that  the  universal  government  was  not  so  severely 
strict,  but  that  there  was  room  for  pardon,  or  for  hav- 
ing those  penal  consequences  prevented.  Yet, 

IV.  There  seems  no  probability,  that  any  thing  we 
could  do  would  alone  and  of  itself  prevent  them  :  pre- 
vent their  following,  or  being  inflicted.  But  one  would 
think  at  least,  it  were  impossible  that  the  contrary  should 
be  thought  certain.  For  we  are  not  acquainted  with 
the  whole  of  the  case.  We  are  not  informed  of  all  the 
reasons,  which  fender  it  fit  that  future  punishments 
should  be  inflicted:  and  therefore  cannot  know,  whether 
any  thing  we  could  do  would  make  such  an  alteration,  as 
to  render  it  fit  that  they  should  be  remitted.  We  do  not 
know  what  the  whole  natural  or  appointed  consequences 
of  vice  are ;  nor  in  what  way  they  would  follow,  if  not 
prevented :  and  therefore  can  in  no  sort  say,  whether  we 
could  do  any  thing  which  would  be  sufficient  to  prevent 
them.  Our  ignorance  being  thus  manifest,  let  us  recol- 
lect the  analogy  of  Nature  or  Providence.  For,  though 
this  may  be  but  a  slight  ground  to  raise  a  positive  opin- 
ion upon,  in  this  matter ;  yet  it  is  sufficient  to  answer  a 
mere  arbitrary  assertion,  without  any  kind  of  evidence, 
urged  by  way  of  objection  against  a  doctrine,  the  proof 
of  which  is  not  reason,  but  revelation.  Consider  then  : 
people  ruin  their  fortunes  by  extravagance ;  they  bring 


Cha  p.  v.] 


A  MEDIATOR  AND  REDEEMER. 


213 


diseases  upon  themselves  by  excess;  they  incur  the 
pe  nalties  of  civil  laws  ;  and  surely  civil  government  is 
nntural;  will  sorrow  for  these  follies  past,  and  behaving 
well  for  the  future,  alone  and  of  itself  prevent  the  na- 
tural consequences  of  them?  On  the  contrary,  men's 
natural  abilities  of  helping  themselves  are  often  impaired; 
or  if  not,  yet  they  are  forced  to  be  beholden  to  the 
assistance  of  others,  upon  several  accounts,  and  in  dif- 
ferent ways ;  assistance  which  they  would  have  had  no 
occasion  for,  had  it  not  been  for  their  misconduct ;  but 
which,  in  the  disadvantageous  condition  they  had  reduced 
themselves  to,  is  absolutely  necessary  to  their  recovery, 
and  retrieving  their  affairs.  Now  since  this  is  our  case, 
considering  ourselves  merely  as  inhabitants  of  this  world, 
and  as  having  a  temporal  interest  here,  under  the  natural 
government  of  God,  which  however  has  a  great  deal 
moral  in  it ;  why  is  it  not  supposable  that  this  may  be 
our  case  also,  in  our  more  important  capacity,  as  under 
his  perfect  moral  government,  and  having  a  more  gene- 
ral and  future  interest  depending?  If  we  have  misbe- 
haved in  this  higher  capacity,  and  rendered  ourselves 
obnoxious  to  the  future  punishment,  which  God  has 
annexed  to  vice:  it  is  plainly  credible,  that  behaving  well 
for  the  time  to  come  may  be — not  useless,  God  for- 
bid— but  wholly  insufficient,  alone  and  of  itself,  to  pre- 
vent that  punishment :  or  to  put  us  in  the  condition, 
which  we  should  have  been  in  had  we  preserved  our 
innocence. 

And  though  we  ought  to  reason  wnth  all  reverence, 
whenever  we  reason  concerning  the  divine  conduct :  yet 
it  may  be  added,  that  it  is  clearly  contrary  to  all  our 
notions  of  government,  as  well  as  to  what  is,  in  fact,  the 
general  constitution  of  nature,  to  suppose,  that  doing 
well  for  th(^  future  should,  in  all  cases,  prevent  all  the 
judicial  bad  consequences  of  having  done  evil,  or  all 
the  punishment  annexed  to  disobedience.  And  we 
have  manifestly  nothing  from  whence  to  determine,  in 
what  degree,  and  in  what  cases,  reformation  would  pre- 
vent this  punishment,  even  supposing  that  it  would  in 
some.  And  though  the  (efficacy  of  repentance  itself 
alone,  to  prevent  what  mankind  had  rendered  themselves 


*214  THE  APPOINTMENT  OF  [Part  II. 

-obnoxious  to,  and  recover  what  they  had  forfeited,  is 
now  insisted  upon,  in  opposition  to  Cliristianity ;  yet,  by 
the  general  prevalence  of  propitiatory  sacrifices  over  the 
heathen  world,  this  notion  of  repentance  alone  being 
sufficient  to  expiate  guilt,  appears  to  be  contrary  to  the 
general  sense  of  mankind. 

Upon  the  whole  then  ;  had  the  laws,  the  general  laws 
of  God's  government  been  permitted  to  operate,  with- 
out any  interposition  in  our  behalf,  the  future  punish- 
ment, for  ought  we  know  to  the  contrary,  or  have  any, 
reason  to  think,  must  inevitably  have  followed,  notwith- 
standing any  thing  we  could  have  done  to  prevent  it. 
Now, 

V.  In  this  darkness,  or  this  hght  of  nature,  call  it 
which  you  please,  revelation  comes  in ;  confirms  every 
doubting  fear,  which  could  enter  into  the  heart  of  man, 
concerning  the  future  unprevented  consequence  of  wick- 
edness ;  supposes  the  world  to  be  in  a  state  of  ruin  (a 
supposition  which  seems  the  very  ground  of  the  Chris- 
tian dispensation,  and  which,  if  not  provable  by  reason, 
yet  is  in  no  wise  contrary  to  it;)  teaches  us  too,  that  the 
.rules  of  divine  government  are  such,  as  not  to  admit  of 
pardon  immediately  and  directly  upon  repentance,  or  by 
the  sole  efficacy  of  it:  but  then  teaches  at  the  same  time, 
what  nature  might  justly  have  hoped,  that  the  moral 
government  of  the  universe  was  not  so  rigid,  but  that 
there  was  room  for  an  interposition,  to  avert  the  fatal 
consequences  of  vice;  which  therefore,  by  this  means, 
does  admit  of  pardon.  Revelation  teaches  us,  that  the 
unknown  laws  of  God's  more  general  government,  no 
less  than  the  particular  laws  by  which  we  experience 
he  governs  us  at  present,  are  compassionate,*  as  well  as 
good  in  the  more  general  notion  of  goodness:  and  that 
he  hath  mercifully  provided,  that  there  should  be  an 
interposition  to  prevent  the  destruction  of  human  kind ; 
whatever  that  destruction  unprevented  would  have  been. 
God  so  loved  the  vjorld,  that  he  gave  his  only  begotten  Son, 
ihat  whosoever  believethy  not,  to  be  sure,  in  a  speculative, 
but  in  a  practical  sense,  that  whosoever  believeth  in  him, 
should  not  perish:^  gave  his  Son  in  the  same  way  of 

*  p.  210,  &c.  t  John  iii.  IG. 


Chap,  v.]  A  MEDIATOR  AND  REDEEMER.  215 

.goodness  to  the  world,  as  he  affords  particular  persons 
the  friendly  assistance  of  their  fellow  creatures:  when, 
without  it,  their  temporal  ruin  would  be  the  certain 
consequence  of  their  follies:  in  the  same  way  of  good- 
ness, I  say;  though  in  a  transcendent  and  infinitely 
higher  degree.  And  the  Son  of  God  loved  us,  and  gave 
himself  for  us,  with  a  love,  which  he  himself  compares 
to  that  of  human  friendship:  though,  in  this  case,  all 
comparisons  must  fall  infinitely  short  of  the  thing  in- 
tended to  be  illustrated  by  them.  He  interposed  in 
such  a  manner  as  was  necessary  and  effectual  to  prevent 
that  execution  of  justice  upon  sinners,  which  God  had  ap- 

^  pointed  should  otherwise  have  been  executed  upon  them : 
or  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  prevent  that  punishment 

.  from  actually  following,  which,  according  to  the  general 
laws  of  divine  government,  must  have  followed  the  sins 
of  the  world,  had  it  not  been  for  such  interposition.* 

If  any  thing  here  said  should  appear,  upon  first 
thought,  inconsistent  with  divine  goodness;  a  second,  I 
am  persuaded,  will  entirely  remove  that  appearance. 
For  were  we  to  suppose  the  constitution  of  things  to  be 
such,  as  that  the  whole  creation  must  have  perished, 
had  it  not  been  for  somewhat,  which  God  had  appointed 
should  be,  in  order  to  prevent  that  ruin:  even  this  sup- 
position would  not  be  inconsistent,  in  any  degree,  with 
the  most  absolutely  perfect  goodness.  But  still  it  may 
be  thought,  that  this  whole  manner  of  treating  the  sub- 
ject before  us  supposes  mankind  to  be  naturally  in  a 
very  strange  state.  And  truly  so  it  does.  But  it  is  not 
Christianity  which  has  put  us  into  this  state.  Whoever 

*  It  cannot,  1  suppo'ip,  he  imagined,  evrn  by  the  most  nirsory  rendrr,  that  it  is,  in 
any  son,  JifRrmctl  or  impliiil  in  any  tliin?  said  in  ti.'is  clia[  l«T,  tl  at  nonn  can  have 
thf  Ih*!!*  fit  of  ih«'  ppni-nil  n  demplion,  hut  snch  as  have  the  advantage  of  b«'ing  matle 
ncqiiHinlod  with  ii  in  the  pn  vt  nL  life.  But  it  may  be  needfnl  to  mention,  that  s*'veral 
ijiie>iions,  wliicli  have  hreii  l)ronplit  into  the  sn'jert  before  ns,  and  detennined,  are 
not  in  the  lea^l  entered  into  here  :  qiieNtions  which  havi*  been,  I  fi  ar.  rashly  deter- 
iiiin*'«l  atul  perli!ii)S  with  equ.il  rashness  Ct)ntr.iry  ways.  For  instanw,  whether  Cod 
CNtuld  have  avi-d  the  world  by  other  n.eans  than  llie  Heath  of  Christ,  consi>leiitly 
■with  llie  g[Pt  eral  laws  of  his  peivernment.  And  liad  not  Clirist  come  into  the  world, 
•wl  at  would  have  l)een  the  future  comlition  <»f  the  l>etter  sort  of  men  ;  those  just 
persons  »)ver  the  far*-  of  tlie  pjirih.  for  whom  .NTana'ses  in  his  prayer  H»i«i«  rls,  n*|>«-n- 
Iflnre  was  not  appfiinted.  The  meaning  of  the  first  of  these  (ju«"slion<  is  ^really 
an)bi(rii,)u«. :  au'l  Ufilher  of  iheni  r-.ni  pmpi  rly  Iw  answere.i.  without  pei  ne  u|><)n  ttiHt 
in4iiit»  ly  absurd  sup|>osition.  that  we  know  llie  whole  of  the  chm'.  And  perluips  the 
▼ery  inipiiry,  /f/tnt  would  hafe  /oi/owfl,  if  (imi  hnd  not  tionr  at  he  kim.  ni«y  uiva  in 
it  some  very  gr»'ni  iniproprii  ly  :  and  oiijjlit  not  t«»  !x'  mrr  ed  on  any  further  than 
tiec«  s^;.ry  to  help  ow  partial  and  n»,;dr«piale  eono'plions  of  things. 


216  THE  APPOINTMENT  OF  [Part  II. 

will  consider  the  manifold  miseries,  and  the  extreme 
wickedness  of  the  world;  that  the  best  have  great 
wrongnesses  within  themselves,  which  they  complain  of, 
and  endeavour  to  amend ;  but  that  the  generality  grow 
more  profligate  and  corrupt  with  age;  that  even  mora- 
lists thought  the  present  state  to  be  a  state  of  punish- 
ment: and,  what  might  be  added,  that  the  earth  our 
habitation  has  the  appearances  of  being  a  ruin :  whoever, 
I  say,  will  consider  all  these,  and  some  other  obvious 
things,  will  think  he  has  little  reason  to  object  against 
the  Scripture  account,  that  mankind  is  in  a  state  of 
degradation;  against  this  being  the  fact:  how  difficult 
soever  he  may  think  it  to  account  for,  or  even  to  form  a. 
distinct  conception  of  the  occasions  and  circumstances 
of  it.  But  that  the  crime  of  our  first  parents  was  the 
occasion  of  our  being  placed  in  a  more  disadvantageous 
condition,  is  a  thing  throughout  and  particularly  analo- 
gous to  what  we  see  in  the  daily  course  of  natural  pro- 
vidence; as  the  recovery  of  the  world  by  the  interposi- 
tion of  Christ  has  been  shown  to  be  so  in  general. 

VI.  The  particular  manner  in  which  Christ  interposed 
in  the  redemption  of  the  world,  or  his  office  Mediator, 
in  the  largest  sense,  between  God  and  man,  is  thus  repre- 
sented to  us  in  the  Scripture.  He  is  the  light  of  the 
world;*  the  revealer  of  the  will  of  God  in  the  most 
eminent  sense.  He  is  a  propitiatory  sacrifice  ;t  the 
Lamb  of  God:X  and,  as  he  voluntarily  offered  himself 
up,  he  is  styled  our  High  Priest. §  And,  which  seems 
of  peculiar  weight,  he  is  described  beforehand  in  the 
Old  Testament,  under  the  same  characters  of  a  priest, 
and  an  expiatory  victim. II  And  whereas  it  is  objected, 
that  all  this  is  merely  by  way  of  allusion  to  the  sacrifices 
of  the  Mosaic  law,  the  Apostle  on  the  contrary  affirms, 
that  the  law  was  a  shadow  of  good  things  to  come,  and  not 
the  very  image  of  the  things:^  and  that  the  priests  that 
offer  gifts  according  to  the  law — serine  unto  the  example 
and  shadow  of  heavenly  things,  as  Moses  was  admonished  • 

*  John  i.  and  viii.  12. 

t  Koni.  iii.  25.  v.  11.  1  Cor.  v.  7  Eph.  v.  2.  1  Jolin  ii.  2.  Mat.  xxvi.  28. 
i  .Jolin  i.  5^9,  yo,  and  lliroiichoiit  tlu-  l)Ook  of  Revt-Jation. 
^  ThroiifihouL  llu-  cpULle  to  llif  lit  brews. 

II  Ivii.  1,11.  J);.i..  IX.  2  J.  P.-.  IX    1.  ^  Heb.  X.  1. 


Chap,  v.]  A  MEDIATOR  AND  REDEEMER.  217 

of  God,  when  he  was  about  to  make  the  tabernacle.  For  see, 
saith  he,  that  thou  make  all  things  according  to  the  pattern 
showed  to  thee  in  the  mount:*  i.  e,  the  Levitical  priesthood 
was  a  shadow  of  the  priesthood  of  Christ;  in  hke  manner 
as  the  tabernacle  made  by  Moses  was  according  to  that 
show^ed  him  in  the  mount  The  priesthood  of  Christ, 
and  the  tabernacle  in  the  mount,  were  the  originals:  of 
the  former  of  which  the  Levitical  priesthood  was  a  type ; 
and  of  the  latter  the  tabernacle  made  by  Moses  was  a 
copy.  The  doctrine  of  this  epistle  then  plainly  is,  that 
the  legal  sacrifices  were  allusions  to  the  great  and  final 
atonement  to  be  made  by  the  blood  of  Christ;  and  not 
that  this  was  an  allusion  to  those.  Nor  can  any  thing 
be  more  express  or  determinate  than  the  following  pas- 
sage. It  is  not  possible  that  the  blood  of  bidls  and  of  goats 
should  take  away  sin.  Wherefore  when  he  cometh  info  the 
world,  he  saith,  Sacrifice  and  offering,  i.  e.  of  bulls  and  of 
goats,  thou  wouldest  not,  but  a  body  hast  thou  prepared  me. 
Lo,  I  come  to  do  thy  will,  0  God.  By  which  will  we  are 
.sanctified,  through  the  offering  of  the  body  of  Jesus  Christ 
once  for  all.t  And  to  add  one  passage  more  of  the  like 
kind:  Christ  was  once  offered  to  bear  the  sins  of  many; 
and  unto  them  that  look  for  him  shall  he  appear  the  second 
time,  vxithout  sin;  i.e.  without  bearing  sin,  as  he  did  at 
his  first  coming,  by  being  an  offering  for  it;  without 
having  our  iniquities  again  laid  upon  him,  without  being 
any  more  a  sin-offering: — iinto  them  that  look  for  him  shalC 
he  appear  the  second  time,  without  sin,  unto  salvation. t 
Nor  do  the  inspired  writers  at  all  confine  themselves  to 
this  manner  of  speaking  concerning  the  satisfaction  of 
Christ;  but  declare  an  efficacy  in  what  he  did  and  suffered 
for  us,  additional  to  and  beyond  mere  instruction,  ex- 
ample, and  government,  in  great  variety  of  expression: 
That  Jesus  .should  die  for  that  nation,  the  Jews:  and  not 
for  that  nation  only,  but  that  also,  plainly  by  the  efficacy 
of  bis  death,  he  should  gather  together  in  one  the  children 
of  God  that  were  scattered  abroad.  §  that  he  suffered  for 
sins,  the  just  for  the  unjust  :\\  that  he  gave  his  life,  himself 
a  ransom:^  i\\\xt  ice  are  bought,  bought  with  a  price:**  that 

♦  vill.  4,  S.  t  T''  '>  X.  4,  5,  7,  9,  10.  t"'  l>  i»-28- 

^.loliii  xi.  ol,  52.  II  I  P^i.  iii.  Iv^.  ^  Malt.  xx.  *-^8.  Mark  x.  45.  1  Tim.  IL  6,. 
*•  '^  Vn.  ii.  1.  Kev.  xiv.  4.    1  Cor.  vi.  20. 


218  THE  APPOINTMENT  OF  [Part  II. 

he  redeemed  us  with  his  blood:  redeemed  us  from  the  curse 
of  the  laWy  being  made  a  curse  for  us  ;*  that  he  is  our 
advocate,  intercessor,  and  proj)itiation  ;t  that  he  was  made 
j)erfect,  or  consummate,  through  sufferings;  and  being 
thus  made  perfect,  he  became  the  author  of  salvation  :X 
that  God  was  in  Christ  reconciling  the  world  to  himself; 
by  the  death  of  his  Son,  by  the  cross;  not  imputing  their 
trespasses  unto  them:§  and  lastly,  that  through  death  he 
destroyed  him  that  had  the  power  of  death.W  Christ  then 
liaving  thus  humbled  himself ,  and  become  obedient  to  death, 
even  the  death  of  the  cross;  God  also  hath  highly  exalted 
him,  and  given  him  a  name,  which  is  above  every  name : 
hath  given  all  things  into  his  hands:  hath  committed  all 
judgment  unto  him;  that  all  men  should  honour  the  Son, 
■even  as  they  honour  the  Father.^  For,  worthy  is  the 
Lamb  that  was  slain,  to  receive  power,  and  riches,  and 
loisdom,  and  strength,  and  honour,  and  glory,  ajid  blessing. 
And  every  creature  which  is  in  heaven,  and  on  the  earth, 
heard  I,  saying.  Blessing,  and  honour,  and  glory,  and 
power,  be  unto  him  that  sitteth  upon  the  throne,  and  imto 
the  Lamb  for  ever  and  ever.** 

These  passages  of  Scripture  seem  to  comprehend  and 
•express  the  chief  parts  of  Christ's  office,  as  Mediator 
between  God  and  man,  so  far,  I  mean,  as  the  nature  of 
this  his  office  is  revealed ;  and  it  is  usually  treated  of  by 
divines  under  three  heads. 

Fii^st,  He  was,  by  way  of  eminence,  the  Prophet:  that 
Prophet  that  should  come  into  the  world,\\  to  declare  the 
divine  will.  He  published  anew  the  law  of  nature, 
which  men  had  corrupted;  and  the  very  knowledge  of 
which,  to  some  degree,  w^as  lost  among  them.  He 
*  taught  mankind,  taught  us  authoritatively,  to  live  soberly, 
righteously,  and  godly  in  this  present  world,  in  expectation 
of  the  future  judgment  of  God.  He  confirmed  tlie  truth 
of  this  moral  system  of  nature,  and  gave  us  additional 
■evidence  of  it;  the  evidence  of  tcstimony.it  He  dis- 
tinctly revealed  the  manner,  in  which  God  would  be 

*  I  Pet.  i.  19  Rev.  V.  9.  Oal.  iii.  13.  f  II<b  vii.  25.  1  Joliii  ii  1,  2. 

X  Wi  h.  ii.  X.  V.  9.  ^  2  Cor.  v.  19.  Worn.  v.  10.  F.ph.  ii.  16. 

II  Ilel).  ii.  14.    See  also  a  reiiiarknhle  j>assiijre  in  tlie  hook  of  .Job,  xxxiii.  24. 
^  Phil.  ii.  8,  9.  John  iii.  30.  v.  22,  23.  ♦*  Kev.  v.  12,  13. 

tt  John  vi.  M.  r.  167,  S:C. 


Chap,  v.]  a  MEDIATOR  AND  REDEEMER.  219 

worshipped,  the  efficacy  of  repentance,  and  the  rewards 
and  punishments  of  a  future  hfe.  Thus  he  was  a  pro- 
phet in  a  sense  in  which  no  other  ever  was.  To  which 
is  to  be  added,  that  he  set  us  a  perfect  example,  that  we 
should  follow  his  steps. 

Secondly y  He  has  a  kingdom  ichich  is  not  of  this  world. 
He  founded  a  Church,  to  be  to  mankind  a  standing 
memorial  of  rehgion,  and  invitation  to  it;  w^iich  he  pro- 
mised to  be  with  always  even  to  the  end.  He  exercises 
an  invisible  government  over  it,  himself,  and  by  his  Spirit: 
over  that  part  of  it,  which  is  militant  here  on  earth,  a 
government  of  discipline,  for  the  perfecting  of  the  saints, 
for  the  edifying  his  body :  till  we  all  come  in  the  unity  of 
the  faith y  and  of  the  knowledge  of  the  Son  of  God,  unto  a 
perject  man,  unto  the  measure  of  the  stature  of  the  fulness 
of  Christ*  Of  this  Church,  all  persons  scattered  over 
the  world,  who  live  in  obedience  to  his  la\^,  are  mem- 
bers. For  these  he  is  gone  to  prepare  a  place,  and  will 
come  again  to  i^eceive  them  unto  himself,  thai  where  he  is, 
there  they  may  he  also  ;  and  reign  with  him  for  ever  and 
ever:\  and  likewise  to  take  vengeance  on  them  that  know 
not  God,  and  obey  not  his  Gospel.X 

Against  these  parts  of  Christ's  office  I  find  no  objec- 
tions, but  what  are  fully  obviated  in  the  beginning  of 
this  Chapter. 

Lastly^  Christ  offered  himself  a  propitiatory  sacrifice, 
and  made  atonement  for  the  sins  of  the  world ;  which  is 
mentioned  last,  in  regard  to  what  is  objected  against  it. 
Sacrifices  of  expiation  were  commanded  the  Jews,  and 
obtained  amongst  most  other  nations,  from  tradition, 
whose  original  probably  was  revelation.  And  they  were 
continually  repeated,  both  occasionally,  and  at  the  re- 
turns of  stated  times  :  and  made  up  great  part  of  the 
external  religion  of  mankind.  But  now  once  in  the  end 
oj  the  world  Christ  appeared  to  put  away  sin  by  the  sacri- 
iice  of  himself^  And  this  sacrifice  was,  in  tlie  highest 
degree  and  with  the  most  extensive  infiuencc,  of  that 
efficacy  for  obtaining  pardon  of  sin,  which  the  h(  athens 
may  be  supposed  to  iiave  thought  their  sacrifices  to  have 


♦  Kph.  iv.  12,  13. 
t  a  Thfss.  i.  8. 


t  John  xiv.  2,  3.  Rrv.  iii.  'Jl,  ami  xi.  15. 
§  lieb.  :x.  iO, 


220  THE  APPOINTMENT  OF  [Part  \U 

been,  and  which  the  Jewish  sacrifices  really  were  in 
some  degree,  and  with  regard  to  some  persons. 

How  and  in  what  particular  way  it  had  this  efficacy^ 
there  are  not  wanting  persons  who  have  endeavoured  to 
explain:  but  I  do  not  find  that  the  Scripture  has  ex- 
plained it.  We  seem  to  be  very  much  in  the  dark 
concerning  the  manner  in  which  the  ancients  understood 
atonement  to  be  made,  ^.  e.  pardon  to  be  obtained  by 
sacrifices.  And  if  the  Scripture  has,  as  surely  it  has, 
left  this  matter  of  the  satisfaction  of  Christ  mysterious, 
left  somewhat  in  it  unrevealed,  all  conjectures  about  it 
must  be,  if  not  evidently  absurd,  yet  at  least  uncertain. 
Nor  has  any  one  reason  to  complain  for  want  of  further 
information,  unless  he  can  show  his  claim  to  it. 

Some  have  endeavoured  to  explain  the  eflficacy  of 
what  Christ  has  done  and  suffered  for  us,  beyond  what 
the  Scripture  has  authorized :  others,  probably  because 
they  could  not  explain  it,  have  been  for  taking  it  away, 
and  confining  his  office  as  Redeemer  of  the  world  to  his 
instruction,  example,  and  government  of  the  church. 
Whereas  the  doctrine  of  the  Gospel  appears  to  be,  not 
only  that  he  taught  the  efficacy  of  repentance,  but  ren- 
dered it  of  the  efficacy  of  w  hich  it  is,  by  what  he  did 
and  suffered  for  us :  that  he  obtained  for  us  the  benefit 
of  having  our  repentance  accepted  unto  eternal  life:  not 
only  that  he  revealed  to  sinners,  that  they  were  in  a 
capacity  of  salvation,  and  how  they  might  obtain  it ;  but 
moreover  that  he  put  them  into  this  capacity  of  salvation, 
by  what  he  did  and  suffered  for  them;  put  us  into  a 
capacity  of  escaping  future  punishment,  and  obtaining 
future  happiness.  And  it  is  our  wisdom  thankfully  to 
accept  the  benefit,  by  performing  the  conditions,  upon 
which  it  is  offered,  on  our  part,  without  disputing  how 
it  was  procured  on  his.  For, 

VII.  Since  we  neither  know  by  what  means  punish- 
ment in  a  future  state  would  have  followed  wickedness 
in  this:  nor  in  what  manner  it  would  have  been  inflicted, 
had  it  not  been  prevented ;  nor  all  the  reasons  why  its 
infliction  would  have  been  needful,  nor  the  particular 
nature  of  that  state  of  happiness,  which  Christ  is  gone 
to  prepare  for  his  disciples :  and  since  we  are  ignorant 


Chap,  v.]  A  MEDIATOR  AND  REDEEMER.  221 

how  far  any  thing  which  we  could  do,  would,  alone  and 
of  itself,  have  been  effectual  to  prevent  that  punishment 
to  which  we  were  obnoxious,  and  recover  that  happi- 
ness, which  we  had  forfeited ;  it  is  most  evident  we  are 
not  judges,  antecedently  to  revelation,  whether  a  me- 
diator was  or  was  not  necessarv,  to  obtain  those  ends :  to 
prevent  that  future  punishment,  and  bring  mankind  to 
the  final  happiness  of  their  nature.  And  for  the  very 
same  reasons,  upon  supposition  of  the  necessity  of  a 
mediator,  we  are  no  more  judges,  antecedently  to  reve- 
lation, of  the  whole  nature  of  his  office,  or  the  several 
parts  of  which  it  consists  ;  of  what  was  fit  and  requisite 
to  be  assigned  him,  in  order  to  accomplish  the  ends  of 
divine  Providence  in  the  appointment.  And  from 
hence  it  follows,  that  to  object  against  the  expediency 
or  usefulness  of  particular  things,  revealed  to  have  been 
done  or  suffered  by  him,  because  we  do  not  see  how 
they  were  conducive  to  those  ends,  is  highly  absurd. 
Yet  nothing  is  more  common  to  be  met  with,  than  this 
absurdity.  But  if  it  be  acknowledged  beforehand,  that 
we  are  not  judges  in  the  case,  it  is  evident  that  no  ob- 
jection can,  with  any  shadow  of  reason,  be  urged  against 
any  particular  part  of  Christ's  mediatorial  office  revealed 
in  Scripture,  till  it  can  be  shown  positively  not  to  be  re- 
quisite or  conducive  to  the  ends  proposed  to  be  accom- 
plished ;  or  that  it  is  in  itself  unreasonable. 

And  there  is  one  objection  made  against  the  satisfac- 
tion of  Christ,  which  looks  to  be  of  this  positive  kind : 
that  the  doctrine  of  his  being  appointed  to  suffer  for  the 
sins  of  the  world,  re])resents  Ciod  as  being  indifferent 
whether  he  punished  the  innocent  or  the  guilty.  Now 
from  the  foregoing  observations  we  may  see  the  extreme 
slightness  of  all  such  objections;  and  (though  it  is  most 
certain  all  who  make  them  do  not  see  the  consequence) 
that  they  conclude  altogether  as  much  against  Cod's 
whole  original  constitution  of  nature,  and  the  whole 
daily  course  of  divine  Providence  in  the  government  of 
the  world,  ?'.  c.  against  the  whole  sclicme  of  Theism  and 
the  whole  notion  of  Religion,  as  against  Christianity. 
For  the  world  is  a  constitution  or  system,  whose  parts 
have  a  mutual  reference  to  each  other:  and  there  is  a 


222 


THE  APPOINTMENT  OF 


[Part  II. 


scheme  of  things  gradually  carrying  on,  called  the  course 
of  nature,  to  the  carrying  on  of  which  God  has  appointed 
us,  in  various  ways,  to  contribute.    And  when,  in  the 
daily  course  of  natural  providence,  it  is  appointed  that 
innocent  people  should  suffer  for  the  faults  of  the  guilty, 
this  is  liable  to  the  very  same  objection,  as  the  instance 
we  are  now  considering.    The  infinitely  greater  impor- 
tance of  that  appointment  of  Christianity,  which  is  ob- 
jected against,  does  not  hinder  but  it  may  be,  as  it  plain- 
ly  is,  an  appointment  of  the  very  same  kind,  with  what 
the  world  affords  us  daily  examples  of.    Nay,  if  there 
were  any  force  at  all  in  the  objection,  it  would  be 
stronger,  in  one  respect,  against  natural  providence,  thaa 
against  Christianity:  because  under  the  former  we  are 
in  many  cases  commanded,  and  even  necessitated  whe- 
ther we  will  or  no,  to  suffer  for  the  faults  of  others ; 
whereas  the  sufferings  of  Christ  were  voluntary.  The 
world's  being  under  the  righteous  government  of  God 
does  indeed  imply,  that  finally  and  upon  the  whole 
every  one  shall  receive  according  to  his  personal  deserts: 
and  the  general  doctrine  of  the  whole  Scripture  is,  that 
this  shall  be  the  completion  of  the  divine  government. 
But  during  the  progress,  and,  for  ought  we  know,  even 
in  order  to  the  completion  of  this  moral  scheme,  vica- 
rious punishments  may  be  fit,  and  absolutely  necessary. 
Men  by  their  follies  run  themselves  into  extreme  dis- 
tress ;  into  difficulties  which  would  be  absolutely  fatal  to 
them,  were  it  not  for  the  interposition  and  assistance  of 
others.    God  commands  by  the  law  of  nature,  that  we 
afford  them  this  assistance,  in  many  cases  where  we 
cannot  do  it  without  very  great  pains,  and  labour,  and 
sufferings  to  ourselves.    And  we  see  in  what  variety  of 
ways  one  person's  sufferings  contribute  to  the  relief  of 
another:  and  how,  or  by  what  particular  means,  this 
comes  to  pass,  or  follows,  from  the  constitution  and  laws 
of  nature,  which  came  under  our  notice  :  and,  being  fami- 
liarized to  it,  men  are  not  shocked  with  it.    So  that  the 
reason  of  their  insisting  upon  objections  of  the  foregoing 
kind  against  the  satisfaction  of  Christ  is,  either  that  they 
do  not  consider  God's  settled  and  uniform  appointments 
as  his  appoi  ntmcnts  at  all ;  or  else  they  forget  that  vica- 


Chap.  V.]  A  MEDIATOR  AND  REDEEMER.  223 

rious  punishment  is  a  providential  appointment  of  every 
day's  experience :  and  then,  from  their  being  unac- 
quainted with  the  more  general  laws  of  nature  or  divine 
government  over  the  world,  and  not  seeing  how  the  suf- 
ferings of  Christ  could  contribute  to  the  redemption  of 
it,  unless  by  arbitrary  and  tyrannical  will;  they  conclude 
his  sufferings  could  not  contribute  to  it  any  other  way. 
And  yet,  what  has  been  often  alleged  in  justification  of 
this  doctrine,  even  from  the  apparent  natural  tendency 
of  this  method  of  our  redemption  ;  its  tendency  to  vindi- 
cate the  authority  of  God's  laws,  and  deter  his  creatures 
from  sin;  this  has  never  yet  been  answered,  and  is  I 
think  plainly  unanswerable :  though  I  am  far  from  think- 
ing it  an  account  of  the  whole  of  the  case.  But,  with- 
out taking  this  into  consideration,  it  abundantly  appears, 
from  the  observations  above  made,  that  this  objection  is, 
not  an  objection  against  Christianity,  but  against  the 
whole  general  constitution  of  nature.  And  if  it  were  to 
be  considered  as  an  objection  against  Christianity,  or 
considering  it  as  it  is,  an  objection  against  the  constitu- 
tion of  nature  ;  it  amounts  to  no  more  in  conclusion  than 
this,  that  a  divine  appointment  cannot  be  necessary  or  ex- 
pedient, because  the  objector  does  not  discern  it  to  be  so: 
though  he  must  own  that  the  nature  of  the  case  is  such, 
as  renders  him  incapable  of  judging,  whether  it  be  so  or 
not;  or  of  seeing  it  to  be  necessary,  though  it  were  so. 

It  is  indeed  a  matter  of  great  patience  to  reasonable 
men,  to  find  people  arguing  in  this  manner :  objecting 
against  the  credibility  of  such  particular  things  revealed 
in  Scripture,  that  they  do  not  see  the  necessity  or  ex- 
pediency of  them.  For  though  it  is  highly  right,  and 
the  most  pious  exercise  of  our  understanding,  to  inquire 
with  due  reverence  into  the  ends  and  reasons  of  (iod's 
dispensation :  yet  when  those  reasons  are  conci  alcd,  to 
argue  from  our  ignorance,  that  such  dispensations  can- 
not be  from  (iod,  is  iniinitely  absurd.  The  ])resinni)ti()n 
of  tliis  kind  of  objections  seems  almost  lost  in  the  folly 
of  them.  And  the  folly  of  them  is  yet  greater,  when 
ihoy  are  urged,  as  usually  they  are,  against  things  in 
Christianity  analogous  or  like  to  those  natural  dispensa- 
tions of  Providence,  which  are  matter  of  experience. 


1224 


THE  APPOINTMENT  OF 


[Part  II. 


Let  reason  be  kept  to  :  and  if  any  part  of  the  Scripture 
account  of  the  redemption  of  the  world  by  Christ  can  be 
shown  to  be  really  contrary  to  it,  let  the  Scripture,  in 
the  name  of  God,  be  given  up :  but  let  not  such  poor 
creatures  as  we  go  on  objecting  against  an  infinite 
scheme,  that  we  do  not  see  the  necessity  or  usefulness 
of  all  its  parts,  and  call  this  reasoning ;  and,  which  still 
further  heightens  the  absurdity  in  the  present  case,  parts 
which  we  are  not  actively  concerned  in.  For  it  may  be 
worth  mentioning, 

Lastly,  That  not  only  the  reason  of  the  thing,  but  the 
whole  analogy  of  nature,  should  teach  us,  not  to  expect 
to  have  the  like  information  concerning  the  divine  con- 
duct, as  concerning  our  own  duty.  God  instructs  us  by 
experience  (for  it  is  not  reason,  but  experience  which 
instructs  us),  what  good  or  bad  consequences  will 
follow  from  our  acting  in  such  and  such  manners :  and 
by  this  he  directs  us  how  we  are  to  behave  ourselves. 
But,  though  we  are  sufficiently  instructed  for  the  com- 
mon purposes  of  hfe :  yet  it  is  but  an  almost  infinitely 
small  part  of  natural  providence,  which  we  are  at  all  let 
into.  The  case  is  the  same  with  regard  to  revelation. 
The  doctrine  of  a  mediator  between  God  and  man, 
against  which  it  is  objected,  that  the  expediency  of 
some  things  in  it  is  not  understood,  relates  only  to  what 
was  done  on  God's  part  in  the  appointment,  and  on  the 
Mediator's  in  the  execution  of  it.  For  what  is  required 
of  us,  in  consequence  of  this  gracious  dispensation,  is 
another  subject,  in  which  none  can  complain  for  want  of 
information.  The  constitution  of  the  world,  and  God's 
natural  government  over  it,  is  all  mystery,  as  much  as 
the  Christian  dispensation.  Yet  under  the  first  he  has 
given  men  all  things  pertaining  to  life;  and  under  the 
other  all  things  pertaining  unto  godliness.  And  it  may 
be  added,  that  there  is  nothing  hard  to  be  accounted  for 
in  any  of  the  common  precepts  of  Christianity:  though 
if  there  were,  surely  a  divine  command  is  abundantly 
sufficient  to  lay  us  under  the  strongest  obligations  to 
obedience.  But  the  fact  is,  that  the  reasons  of  all  the 
Christian  precepts  are  evident.  Positive  institutions  are 
manifestly  necessary  to  keep  up  and  propagate  religion 


Chap.  VI.]  A  MEDIATOR  AND  REDEEMER.  225 

amongst  mankind.  And  our  duty  to  Christ,  the  internal 
and  external  worship  of  him ;  this  part  of  the  rehgion  of 
the  Gospel  manifestly  arises  out  of  what  he  has  done 
and  suffered,  his  authority  and  dominion,  and  the  rela- 
tion which  he  is  revealed  to  stand  in  to  us.* 


CHAP.  VI.  ^ 

OF  THE  WANT  OF  UNIVERSALITY  IN  REVELATION;  AND  OF 
THE  SUPPOSED  DEFICIENCY  IN  THE  PROOF  OF  IT. 

It  has  been  thought  by  some  persons,  that  if  the  evi- 
dence of  revelation  appears  doubtful,  this  itself  turns 
into  a  positive  argument  against  it:  because  it  cannot  be 
supposed,  that,  if  it  were  true,  it  would  be  left  to  subsist 
upon  doubtful  evidence.  And  the  objection  against 
revelation  from  its  not  being  universal  is  often  insisted 
upon  as  of  great  weight. 

Now  the  weakness  of  these  opinions  may  be  shown, 
by  observing  the  suppositions  on  which  they  are  found- 
ed: which  are  really  such  as  these  ;  that  it  cannot  be 
thought  God  would  have  bestowed  any  favour  at  all 
upon  us,  unless  in  the  degree,  which,  we  think,  he  might, 
and  which,  we  imagine,  would  be  most  our  particular 
advantage;  and  also  that  it  cannot  be  thought  he  would 
bestow  a  favour  upon  any,  unless  he  bestowed  the  same 
upon  all ;  suppositions,  which  we  find  contradicted,  not 
by  a  few  instances  in  God's  natural  government  of  the 
world,  but  by  the  general  analogy  of  nature  togetlier. 

Persons  who  speak  of  the  evidence  of  religion  as 
doubtful,  and  of  this  supposed  doubtfulness  as  a  positive 
argument  against  it,  siiould  be  j)ut  upon  considering, 
what  that  evidence  indeed  is,  which  they  act  upon  with 
regard  to  their  temporal  interests.  For,  it  is  not  only 
extremely  diOicult,  but  in  many  cases  absolutely  impos- 
sible, to  balance  pleasur(^  and  j)ain,  satisfaction  and 
uneasiness,  so  as  to  be  able  to  say  on  which  side  the 
overplus  is.  There  are  the  like  diliiculties  and  impossi- 
biUties  in  making  the  due  allowances  for  a  change  of 

♦  P.  171,&c. 
P 


226  REVELATION  NOT  UNIVERSAL  I  [Part  II. 

temper  and  taste,  for  satiety,  disgusts,  ill  health :  any  of 
which  render  men  incapable  of  enjoying,  after  they  have 
obtained  what  they  most  eagerly  desired.  Numberless 
too  are  the  accidents,  besides  that  one  of  untimely  death, 
which  may  even  probably  disappoint  the  best  concerted 
schemes:  and  strong  objections  are  often  seen  to  lie 
against  them,  not  to  be  removed  or  answered,  but  which 
seem  overbalanced  by  reasons  on  the  other  side;  so  as 
that  the  certain  difficulties  and  dangers  of  the  pursuit 
are,  by  every  one,  thought  justly  disregarded,  upon 
account  of  the  appearing  greater  advantages  in  case  of 
success,  though  there  be  but  little  probability  of  it. 
Lastly,  every  one  observes  our  liableness,  if  we  be  not 
upon  our  guard,  to  be  deceived  by  the  falsehood  of  men, 
and  the  false  appearances  of  things:  and  this  danger 
must  be  greatly  increased,  if  there  be  a  strong  bias 
within,  suppose  from  indulged  passion,  to  favour  the 
deceit.  Hence  arises  that  great  uncertainty  and  doubt- 
fulness of  proof,  wherein  our  temporal  interest  really 
consists;  what  are  the  most  probable  means  of  attaining 
it;  and  whether  those  means  will  eventually  be  success- 
ful. And  numberless  instances  there  are,  in  the  daily 
course  of  life,  in  which  all  men  think  it  reasonable  to 
engage  in  pursuits,  though  the  probabihty  is  greatly 
against  succeeding;  and  to  make  such  provision  for 
themselves,  as  it  is  supposable  they  may  have  occasion 
for,  though  the  plain  acknowledged  probability  is,  that 
they  never  shall.  Then  those  who  think  the  objection 
against  revelation,  from  its  light  not  being  universal,  to 
be  of  weight,  should  observe,  that  the  Author  of  Nature, 
in  numberless  instances,  bestows  that  upon  some,  which 
he  does  not  upon  others,  who  seem  equally  to  stand  in 
need  of  it.  Indeed  he  appears  to  bestow  all  his  gifts 
with  the  most  promiscuous  variety  among  creatures  of 
the  same  species:  health  and  strength,  capacities  of  pru- 
dence and  of  knowledge,  means  of  improvement,  riches, 
and  all  external  advantages.  And  as  there  are  not  any 
two  men  found,  of  ( xactly  like  shape  and  features;  so 
it  is  probable  there  are  not  any  two,  of  an  exactly  like 
constitution,  temper,  and  situation,  with  regard  to  the 
goods  and  evils  of  life.     Yet,  notwithstanding  these- 


Chap.VT.]       supposed  DEFICIENCY  IN  ITS  PROOF.  227 

uncertainties  and  varieties,  God  does  exercise  a  natural 
government  over  the  world ;  and  there  is  such  a  thing 
as  a  prudent  and  imprudent  institution  of  Hfe,  with  re- 
gard to  our  health  and  our  affairs,  under  that  his  natural 
government. 

As  neither  the  Jewish  nor  Christian  revelation  have 
been  universal ;  and  as  they  have  been  afforded  to  a 
greater  or  less  part  of  the  world,  at  different  times ;  so 
likewise  at  different  times,  both  revelations  have  had 
different  desirees  of  evidence.  The  Jews  who  lived 
during  the  succession  of  prophets,  that  is,  from  Moses 
till  after  the  Captivity,  had  higher  evidence  of  the  truth 
of  their  religion,  than  those  had,  who  lived  in  the  inter- 
val between  the  last  mentioned  period,  and  the  coming 
of  Christ.  And  the  first  Christians  had  higher  evidence 
of  the  miracles  wrought  in  attestation  of  Christianity, 
than  what  we  have  now.  They  had  also  a  strong  pre- 
sumptive proof  of  the  truth  of  it,  perhaps  of  much 
greater  force,  in  way  of  argument,  than  many  think,  of 
which  we  have  very  little  remaining  ;  I  mean  the  pre- 
sumptive proof  of  its  truth,  from  the  influence  which  it 
had  upon  the  lives  of  the  generality  of  its  professors. 
And  we,  or  future  ages,  may  possibly  have  a  proof  of  it, 
which  they  could  not  have,  from  the  conformity  between 
,  the  prophetic  history,  and  the  state  of  the  world  and  of 
Christianity.  And  further:  if  we  were  to  suppose  the 
evidence,  which  some  have  of  religion,  to  amount  to 
little  more  than  seeing  that  it  may  be  true;  but  that 
they  remain  in  great  doubts  and  uncertainties  about 
both  its  evidence  and  its  nature,  and  great  perplexities 
concerning  the  rule  of  life:  others  to  have  a  full  con- 
viction of  the  truth  of  religion,  with  a  distinct  knowledge 
of  their  duty  ;  and  others  severally  to  have  all  the  inter- 
mediate degrees  of  religious  light  and  evidence,  which 
lie  between  these  two — if  we  put  the  case,  that  for  the 
present,  it  was  intended,  revelation  sliould  be  no  more 
than  a  small  light,  in  the  midst  of  a  world  greatly  over- 
spread, notwithstanding  it,  with  ignorance  and  darkness  : 
that  certain  glimmerings  of  this  light  should  extend,  and 
be  directed,  t-o  remote  distances,  in  such  a  manncT  as 
that  those  who  reallv  uartook  of  it  should  not  discern 

P  2 


228  REVELATION  NOT  universal:  [Part  H. 

from  whence  it  ori^^inally  came:  that  some  in  a  nearer 
situation  to  it  should  have  its  hght  obscured,  and,  in  dif- 
ferent ways  and  degrees,  intercepted:  and  that  others 
should  be  placed  within  its  clearer  influence,  and  be 
much  more  enlivened,  cheered,  and  directed  by  it ;  but 
yet  that  even  to  these  it  should  be  no  more  than  a  light 
shining  in  a  dark  place :  all  this  would  be  perfectly  uni- 
form, and  of  a  piece  with  the  conduct  of  Providence,  in 
the  distribution  of  its  other  blessings.    If  the  fact  of  the 
case  really  were,  that  some  have  received  no  light  at  all 
from  the  Scripture  ;  as  many  ages  and  countries  in  the 
heathen  world  :  that  others,  though  they  have,  by  means 
of  it,  had  essential  or  natural  religion  enforced  upon  their 
consciences,  yet  have  never  had  the  genuine  Scripture 
revelation,  with  its  real  evidence,  proposed  to  their  con- 
sideration ;  and  the  ancient  Persians  and  modern  Maho- 
metans may  possibly  be  instances  of  people  in  a  situa- 
tion somewhat  like  to  this:  that  others,  though  they  have 
had  the  Scripture  laid  before  them  as  of  divine  revelation, 
yet  have  had  it  with  the  system  and  evidence  of  Christi- 
anity so  interpolated,  the  system  so  corrupted,  the  evi- 
dence so  blended  with  false  miracles,  as  to  leave  the 
mind  in  the  utmost  doubtfulness  and  uncertainty  about 
the  whole;  which  may  be  the  state  of  some  thoughtful 
men,  in  most  of  those  nations  who  call  themselves  Chris- 
tian :  and  lastly,  that  others  have  had  Christianity  olfered 
to  them  in  its  genuine  simplicity,  and  with  its  proper 
evidence,  as  persons  in  countries  and  churches  of  civil 
and  of  Christian  liberty;  but  however  that  even  thesfe 
persons  are  left  in  great  ignorance  in  many  respects,  and 
have  by  no  means  light  afforded  them  enough  to  satisfy 
their  curiosity,  but  only  to  regulate  their  life,  to  teach 
them  their  duty,  and  encourage  them  in  the  careful  dis- 
charge of  it:  I  say,  if  we  were  to  suppose  this  somewhat 
of  a  general  true  account  of  the  degrees  of  moral  and 
religious  light  and  evidence,  which  were  intended  to  be 
afforded  mankind,  and  of  what  has  actually  been  and  is 
their  situation,  in  their  moral  and  religious  capacity;  there 
would  be  nothing  in  all  this  ignorance,  doubtfulness,  and 
uncertainty,  in  all  these  varieties,  and  supposed  disad- 
vantages of  some  in  comparison  of  others,  respecting 


Chap.  VI.]       SUPPOSED  DEFICIENCY  IN  ITS  PROOF.  229 

religion,  but  paralleled  by  manifest  analogies  in 

the  natural  dispensations  of  Providence  at  present,  and 
considering  ourselves  merely  in  our  temporal  capacity. 

Nor  is  there  any  thing  shocking  in  all  this,  or  which 
would  seem  to  bear  hard  upon  the  moral  administration 
in  nature,  if  we  would  really  keep  in  mind,  that  every 
one  shall  be  dealt  equitably  with:  instead  of  forgetting 
this,  or  explaining  it  away,  after  it  is  acknowledged  in 
words.  All  shadow  of  injustice,  and  indeed  all  harsh 
appearances,  in  this  various  economy  of  Providence, 
would  be  lost;  if  we  would  keep  in  mind,  that  every 
merciful  allowance  shall  be  made,  and  no  more  be  re- 
quired of  any  one,  than  what  might  have  been  equitably 
expected  of  him,  from  the  circumstances  in  which  he  was 
placed  ;  and  not  what  might  have  been  expected,  had  he 
been  placed  in  other  circumstances :  i.  e.  in  Scripture 
language,  that  every  m,an  shall  be  accepted  according  to 
what  he  had,  not  according  to  lohat  he  had  not*  This  how- 
ever doth  not  by  any  means  imply,  that  all  persons'con- 
dition  here  is  equally  advantageous  with  respect  to  futu- 
rity. And  Providence's  designing  to  place  some  in 
greater  darkness  with  respect  to  religious  knowledge,  is 
no  more  a  reason  why  they  should  not  endeavour  to  get 
out  of  that  darkness,  and  others  to  bring  them  out  of  it; 
than  why  ignorant  and  slow  people  in  matters  of  other 
knowledge  should  not  endeavour  to  learn,  or  should  not 
be  instructed. 

It  is  not  unreasonable  to  suppose,  that  the  same  wise 
and  good  principle,  whatever  it  was,  which  disposed  the 
Author  of  Nature  to  make  different  kinds  and  orders  of 
creatures,  disposed  him  also  to  place  creatures  of  like 
kinds  in  different  situations  :  and  that  the  same  principle 
which  disposed  him  to  make  creatures  of  different  moral 
capacities,  disposed  him  also  to  place  creatures  of  like 
moral  capacities  in  different  religious  situations ;  and  even 
the  same  creatures,  in  different  periods  of  their  being. 
And  the  account  or  reason  of  this  is  also  most  probably 
the  account  why  the  constitution  of  things  is  such,  as 
that  creatures  of  moral  natures  or  capacities,  for  a  con- 
sideruble  part  of  that  duration  in  which  they  are  living 

♦  2  Cor.  viii.  12. 


230  REVELATION  NOT  UNIVERSAL  :  |Tart  IL 

agents,  are  not  at  all  subjects  of  morality  and  religion  ; 
but  grow  up  to  be  so,  and  grow  up  to  be  so  more  and 
more  gradually  from  childhood  to  mature  age. 

What,  in  particular,  is  the  account  or  reason  of  these 
things,  we  must  be  greatly  in  the  dark,  were  it  only  that 
we  know  so  very  little  even  of  our  own  case.  Our  pre- 
sent state  may  possibly  be  the  consequence  of  somewhat 
past,  which  we  are  wholly  ignorant  of:  as  it  has  a  refer- 
ence to  somewhat  to  come,  of  which  we  know  scarce  any 
more  than  is  necessary  for  practice.  A  system  or  con- 
stitution, in  its  notion,  implies  variety;  and  so  compli- 
cated a  one  as  this  world,  very  great  variety.  So  that 
were  revelation  universal,  yet,  from  men's  different  capa- 
cities of  understanding,  from  the  different  lengths  of  their 
lives,  their  different  educations  and  other  external  cir- 
cumstances, and  from  their  difference  of  temper  and  bodily 
constitution  ;  their  religious  situations  would  be  widely 
different,  and  the  disadvantage  of  some  in  comparison 
of  others,  perhaps,  altogether  as  much  as  at  present. 
And  the  true  account,  whatever  it  be,  why  mankind,  or 
such  a  part  of  m.ankind,  are  placed  in  this  condition  of 
ignorance,  must  be  supposed  also  the  true  account  of 
our  further  ignorance,  in  not  knowing  the  reasons  why, 
or  whence  it  is,  that  they  are  placed  in  this  condition. 
But  the  following  practical  reflections  may  deserve  the 
serious  consideration  of  those  persons,  who  think  the 
circumstances  of  mankind  or  their  own,  in  the  foremen- 
tioned  respects,  a  ground  of  complaint. 

First,  The  evidence  of  religion  not  appearing  obvious, 
may  constitute  one  particular  part  of  some  men's  trial  in 
the  religious  sense :  as  it  gives  scope,  for  a  virtuous  ex- 
ercise, or  vicious  neglect  of  their  understanding,  in  ex- 
amining or  not  examining  into  that  evidence.  There 
seems  no  possible  reason  to  be  given,  why  we  may  not 
be  in  a  state  of  moral  probation,  with  regard  to  the  ex- 
ercise of  our  understanding  upon  the  subject  of  religion, 
as  we  are  with  regard  to  our  behaviour  in  common 
affairs.  The  former  is  as  much  a  thing  within  our  power 
and  choice  as  the  latter.  And  I  suppose  it  is  to  be  laid 
down  for  certain,  that  the  same  character,  the  same  in- 
ward principle,  which,  after  a  man  is  convinced  of  the 


Chap.  VI.]        SUPPOSED  DEFTCIENCY  IN  ITS  PROOF.  231 

truth  of  religion,  renders  him  obedient  to  the  precepts  of 
it,  would,  were  he  not  thus  convinced,  set  him  about  an 
examination  of  it,  upon  its  system  and  evidence  being 
offered  to  his  thoughts  :  and  that  in  the  latter  state  his 
examination  would  be  with  an  impartiality,  seriousness, 
and  solicitude,  proportionable  to  vvhat  his  obedience  is 
in  the  former.  And  as  inattention,  negligence,  want  of 
all  serious  concern,  about  a  matter  of  such  a  nr.ture  and 
such  importance,  when  offered  to  men's  consideration,  is, 
before  a  distinct  conviction  of  its  truth,  as  real  immoral 
depravity  and  dissoluteness;  as  neglect  of  religious  prac- 
tice after  such  conviction :  so  active  solicitude  about  it, 
and  fair  impartial  consideration  of  its  evidence  before 
such  conviction,  is  as  really  an  exercise  of  a  morally  right 
temper ;  as  is  religious  practice  after.  Thus,  that  reli- 
gion is  not  intuitively  true,  but  a  matter  of  deduction 
and  inference ;  that  a  conviction  of  its  truth  is  not  forced 
upon  every  one,  but  left  to  be,  by  some,  collected  with 
heedful  attention  to  premises;  this  as  much  constitutes 
religious  probation,  as  much  affords  sphere,  scope,  oppor- 
tunity, for  right  and  wrong  behaviour,  as  any  thing  what- 
ever does.  And  their  manner  of  treating  this  subject, 
when  laid  before  them,  shows  what  is  in  their  heart,  and 
is  an  exertion  of  it. 

Secondlyy  It  appears  to  be  a  thing  as  evident,  though 
it  is  not  so  much  attended  to,  that  if,  upon  consideration 
of  religion,  the  evidence  of  it  should  seem  to  any  persons 
doubtful,  in  the  highest  supposable  degree;  even  this 
doubtful  evidence  will,  however,  put  them  into  a  general 
state  of  probation  in  the  moral  and  religious  sense.  For, 
suppose  a  man  to  be  really  in  doubt,  whether  such  a 
person  had  not  done  him  the  greatest  favour;  or,  whether 
his  whole  temporal  interest  did  not  depend  upon  that 
person  :  no  one,  who  had  any  sense  of  gratitude  and  ol 
prudence,  could  possiblv  consider  himself  in  the  same 
situation,  with  regard  to  such  ])ers()n,  as  if  he  had  no 
such  doubt.  In  truth,  it  is  as  just  to  say,  that  certainty 
and  doubt  are  the  same;  as  to  say  tiic  situations 
now  mentioned  would  h  ave  a  man  as  entirely  at  liberty 
in  point  of  gratitude  or  prudence,  as  he  would  \){\  w  cr^, 
he  certain  he  had  received  no  favour  froai  such  person, 


232 


REVELATION  NOT  UNIVERSAL 


[Fart  l\ 


or  that  he  no  way  depended  upon  hiin.  And  thus, 
though  the  evidence  of  rehgion  which  is  afforded  to  sorne^ 
men  should  be  httle  more  than  they  are  given  to  see,  the  - 
system  of  Christianity,  or  rehgion  in  general,  to  be  sup-r 
posable  and  credible;  this  ought  in  all  reason  to  beget  a 
serious  practical  apprehension,  that  it  may  be  true.  And- 
even  this  will  afford  matter  of  exercise  for  religious^ 
suspense  and  deliberation,  for  moral  resolution  and 
self-government;  because  the  apprehension  that  religion 
may  be  true  does  as  really  lay  men  under  obligations,  as 
a  full  conWction  that  it  is  true.  It  gives  occasion  and 
motives  to  consider  further  the  important  subject;  to  pre- 
serve attentively  upon  their  minds  a  general  implicit  sense 
that  they  may  be  under  divine  moral  government,  an  awful 
solicitude  about  religion,  whether  natural  or  revealed. 
Such  apprehension  ought  to  turn  men's  eyes  to  every 
degree  of  new  light  which  may  be  had,  from  whatever 
side  it  comes ;  and  induce  them  to  refrain,  in  the  mean 
time,  from  all  immoralities,  and  live  in  the  conscientious 
practice  of  every  common  virtue.  Especially  are  they 
bound  to  keep  at  the  greatest  distance  from  all  dissolute 
profaneness;  for  this  the  very  nature  of  the  case  forbids; 
and  to  treat  with  highest  reverence  a  matter,  upon  which 
their  own  whole  interest  and  being,  and  the  fate  of 
nature,  depend.  This  behaviour,  and  an  active  endeavour 
to  maintain  within  themselves  this  temper,  is  the  busi- 
ness, the  duty,  and  the  wisdom  of  those  persons,  who 
complain  of  the  doubtfulness  of  religion:  is  what  they  are 
under  the  most  proper  obligations  to.  And  such  beha- 
viour is  an  exertion  of,  and  has  a  tendency  to  improve 
in  them,  that  character,  which  the  practice  of  all  the 
several  duties  of  religion,  from  a  full  conviction  of  its 
truth,  is  an  exertion  of,  and  has  a  tendency  to  improve 
in  others:  others,  I  say,  to  whom  God  has  afforded  such 
conviction.  Nay,  considering  the  infinite  importance  of 
religion,  revealed  as  well  as  natural,  I  think  it  may  be 
said  in  general,  that  whoever  will  weigh  the  matter 
thoroughly  may  see,  there  is  not  near  so  much  diflference, . 
as  is  coinmonly  imagined,  between  what  ought  in  reason, 
to  be  the  rule  of  life,  to  those  persons  who  are  fully  con« 
vinced  of  its  truth,  and  to  those  who  have  only  a  serious  - 


Chap.ti.]     supposed  deficiency  in  its  proof.  233 

doubting  apprehension,  that  it  may  be  true.  Their  hopes, 
and  fears,  and  obhgations,  will  be  in  various  degrees:  but, 
as  the  subject  matter  of  their  hopes  and  fears  is  the  same; 
so  the  subject  matter  of  their  obligations,  what  they  are 
bound  to  do  and  to  refrain  from,  is  not  so  very  unlike. 

It  is  to  be  observed  further,  that,  from  a  character  of 
understanding,  or  a  situation  of  influence  in  the  world, 
some  persons  have  it  in  their  power  to  do  infinitely  more 
harm  or  good,  by  setting  an  example  of  profaneness  and 
avowed  disregard  to  all  religion,  or,  on  the  contrary,  of 
a  serious,  though  perhaps  doubting,  apprehension  of  its 
truth,  and  of  a  reverend  regard  to  it  under  this  doubt- 
fulness ;  than  they  can  do,  by  acting  well  or  ill  in  all  the 
common  intercourses  amongst  mankind.  And  conse- 
quently they  are  most  highly  accountable  for  a  behaviour, 
which,  they  may  easily  foresee,  is  of  such  importance, 
and  in  which  there  is  most  plainly  a  right  and  a  wTong; 
even  admitting  the  evidence  of  religion  to  be  as  doubtful 
as  is  pretended. 

The  ground  of  these  observations,  and  that  which 
renders  them  just  and  true,  is,  that  doubting  necessarily 
implies  some  degree  of  evidence  for  that,  of  which  we 
doubt.  For  no  person  would  be  in  doubt  concerning 
the  truth  of  a  number  of  facts  so  and  so  circumstanced, 
which  should  accidentally  come  into  his  thoughts,  and  of 
which  he  had  no  evidence  at  all.  And  though  in  the 
case  of  an  even  chance,  and  where  consequently  we  were 
in  doubt,  we  should  in  common  language  say,  that  we 
had  no  evidence  at  all  for  either  side;  yet  that  situation 
of  things,  which  renders  it  an  even  chance  and  no  more, 
that  such  an  (^vent  will  happen,  renders  this  case  equiva- 
lent to  all  others,  whore  there  is  such  evidence  on  both 
sides  of  a  question,*  as  leaves  the  mind  in  doubt  con- 
cerning the  truth.  Indeed  in  all  these  cases,  there  is  no 
more  (evidence  on  one  side  than  on  the  other  ;  but  there 
is  (what  is  equival(Mit  to)  much  more  for  either,  than  for 
the  truth  of  a  niunbcr  of  facts,  which  come  into  one's 
thouirhts  at  random.  And  thus,  in  all  these  cases,  doubt 
as  much  presupposes  evidence,  Iowct  decrees  ol  evi- 
dence, as  belief  presupposes  higher,  and  certainty  higher 

*•  IntrotiucUoo. 


234  REVELATION  NOT  universal:  [Part  H. 

Still.  Any  one,  Trho  will  a  little  attend  to  the  nature  of 
evidence,  will  easily  carry  this  observation  on,  and  see, 
that  between  no  evidence  at  all,  and  that  degree  of  it 
which  alfords  ground  of  doubt,  there  are  as  many  inter- 
mediate degrees,  as  there  are,  between  that  degree  which 
is  the  ground  of  doubt,  and  demonstration.  And  though 
we  have  not  faculties  to  distinguish  these  degrees  of 
evidence  with  any  sort  of  exactness ;  yet,  in  proportion 
as  they  are  discerned,  they  ought  to  influence  our  prac- 
tice. For  it  is  as  rtal  an  imperfection  in  the  moral  cha- 
racter, not  to  be  influenced  in  practice  by  a  lower  degree 
of  evidence  when  discerned,  as  it  is  in  the  understanding, 
not  to  discern  it.  And  as,  in  all  subjects  which  men  con- 
sider, they  discern  the  lower  as  well  as  higher  degrees  of 
evidence,  proportionably  to  their  capacity  of  understand- 
ing; so,  in  practical  subjects,  they  are  influenced  in  prac- 
tice, by  the  lower  as  well  as  higher  degrees  of  it,  propor- 
tionably to  their  fairness  and  honesty.  And  as,  in  pro- 
portion to  defects  in  the  understanding,  men  are  unapt 
to  see  lower  degrees  of  evidence,  are  in  danger  of  over- 
looking evidence  when  it  is  not  glaring,  and  are  easily 
imposed  upon  in  such  cases;  so,  in  proportion  to  the 
corruption  of  the  heart,  they  seem  capable  of  satisfying 
themselves  with  having  no  regard  in  practice  to  evidence 
acknowledged  real,  if  it  be  not  overbearing.  From  these 
things  it  must  follow,  that  doubting  concerning  religion 
implies  such  a  degree  of  evidence  for  it,  as,  joined  with 
the  consideration  of  its  importance,  unquestionably  lays 
men  under  the  obligations  before  mentioned,  to  have  a 
dutiful  regard  to  it  in  all  their  behaviour. 

Thirdly,  The  difficulties  in  which  the  evidence  of  reli- 
gion is  involved,  which  some  complain  of,  is  no  more  a 
just  ground  of  complaint,  than  the  external  circumstances 
3f  temptation,  which  others  are  placed  in;  or  than  diffi- 
culties in  the  practice  of  it,  after  a  full  conviction  of  its 
truth.  Temptations  render  our  state  a  more  improving 
state  of  discipline,*  than  it  would  be  otherwise :  as  they 
give  occasion  for  a  more  attentive  exercise  of  the  vir- 
tuous princ'ple,  which  confirms  and  strengthens  it  more, 
llian  an  easier  or  less  attentive  exercise  of  it  could.  Now 

*  I'-irt  I.  CLip.  V.  J 


Chap.  VI.]      SUPPOSED  DEFICIENCY  IN  ITS  PROOF.  235 

speculative  difficulties  are,  in  this  respect,  of  the  very 
same  nature  with  these  external  temptations.  For  the 
evidence  of  religion  not  appearing  obvious,  is  to  some 
persons  a  temptation  to  reject  it,  without  any  considera- 
tion at  all;  and  therefore  requires  such  an  attentive  ex- 
ercise of  the  virtuous  principle,  seriously  to  consider  that 
evidence,  as  there  would  be  no  occasion  for,  but  for  such 
temptation.  And  the  supposed  doubtfulness  of  its  evi- 
dence, after  it  has  been  in  some  sort  considered,  affords 
opportunity  to  an  unfair  mind  of  explaining  away,  and 
deceitfully  hiding  from  itself,  that  evidence  which  it  might 
see;  and  also  for  men's  encouraging  themselves  in  vice, 
from  hopes  of  impunity,  though  they  do  clearly  see  thus 
much  at  least,  that  these  hopes  are  uncertain :  in  like 
manner  as  the  common  temptation  to  many  instances  of 
folly,  which  end  in  temporal  infamy  and  ruin,  is  the 
ground  for  hope  of  not  being  detected,  and  of  escaping 
with  impunity;  i.  e.  the  doubtfulness  of  the  proof  before- 
hand, that  such  foolish  behaviour  will  thus  end  in  infamy 
and  ruin.  On  the  contrary,  supposed  doubtfulness  in 
the  evidence  of  religion  calls  for  a  more  careful  and  atten- 
tive exercise  of  the  virtuous  principle,  in  fairly  yielding 
themselves  up  to  the  proper  influence  of  any  real  evi- 
dence, though  doubtful ;  and  in  practising  conscientiously 
all  virtue,  though  under  some  uncertainty,  whether  the 
government  in  the  universe  may  not  possibly  be  such,  as 
that  vice  may  escape  with  impunity.  And  in  general, 
temptation,  meaning  by  this  word  the  lesser  allurements 
to  wrong  and  difficulties  in  tlie  discharge  of  our  dutv,  as 
w^ell  as  the  greater  ones  ;  temptation,  I  say,  as  such  and 
of  every  kind  and  degree,  as  it  calls  forth  some  virtuous 
efforts,  additional  to  what  would  otherwise  have  been 
wanting,  cannot  but  be  an  additional  discij)line  and  im- 
provement of  virtue,  as  well  as  probation  of  it  in  the 
other  senses  of  that  word.*  So  that  the  very  same  ac- 
count is  to  be  given,  why  the  evidence  of  religion  should 
be  left  in  such  a  manner,  as  to  require,  in  some,  an 
attentive,  solicitous,  perhaps  painful  exercise  of  their 
understanding  about  it ;  as  why  others  slioukl  be  placed 
ia  such  circumstances,  as  that  the  practice  of  its  common 

♦  Part  I.  Chap.  iv.  mA  pp.  13a,  134. 


236  REVELATION  NOT  UNI VERSAL :  [Part  If. 

duties,  after  a  full  conviction  of  the  truth  of  it,  should 
require  attention,  solicitude,  and  pains :  or,  why  appear- 
ing doubtfulness  should  be  permitted  to  afford  matter  of 
temptation  to  some ;  as  why  external  difficulties  and 
allurements  should  be  permitted  to  afford  matter  of 
temptation  to  others.  The  same  account  also  is  to  be 
given,  why  some  should  be  exercised  with  temptations 
of  both  these  kinds ;  as  why  others  should  be  exercised 
with,  the  latter  in  such  very  high  degrees,  as  some  have 
been,  particularly  as  the  primitive  Christians  were. 

Nor  does  there  appear  any  absurdity  in  supposing, 
that  the  speculative  difficulties,  in  which  the  evidence  of 
religion  is  involved,  may  make  even  the  principal  part 
of  some  persons'  trial.  For  as  the  chief  temptations  of 
the  generality  of  the  world  are  the  ordinary  motives  to 
injustice  or  unrestrained  pleasure ;  or  to  live  in  the  ne- 
glect of  religion  from  that  frame  of  mind,  which  renders 
many  persons  almost  without  feeling  as  to  any  thing  dis- 
tant, or  which  is  not  the  object  of  their  senses:  so  there 
are  other  persons  without  this  shallowness  of  temper, 
persons  of  a  deeper  sense  as  to  what  is  invisible  and 
future ;  who  not  only  see,  but  have  a  general  practical 
feehng,  that  what  is  to  come  will  be  present,  and  that 
things  are  not  less  real  for  their  not  being  the  objects  of 
sense;  and  who,  from  their  natural  constitution  of  body 
and  of  temper,  and  from  their  external  condition,  may 
have  small  temptations  to  behave  ill,  small  difficulty  in 
behaving  well,  in  the  common  course  of  life.  Now 
when  these  latter  persons  have  a  distinct  full  conviction 
of  the  truth  of  religion,  without  any  possible  doubts  or 
difficulties,  the  practice  of  it  is  to  them  unavoidable,  un- 
less they  will  do  a  constant  violence  to  their  own  minds; 
and  religion  is  scarce  any  more  a  discipline  to  them, 
than  it  is  to  creatures  in  a  state  of  perfection.  Yet 
these  persons  may  possibly  stand  in  need  of  moral  dis- 
cipline and  exercise  in  a  higher  degree,  than  they  would 
have  by  such  an  easy  practice  of  religion.  Or  it  may 
be  requisite,  for  reasons  unknown  to  us,  that  they  should 
give  some  further  manifestation*  what  is  their  moral 
character,  to  the  creation  of  God,  than  such  a  practice 

♦  p.  133,  134. 


C«AP.  VI.J       SUPPOSED  DEFICIENCY  IN  ITS  PROOF.  237 

of  it  would  be.  Thus  in  the  great  variety  of  rehgious 
situations  in  which  men  are  placed,  what  constitutes, 
what  chiefly  and  peculiarly  constitutes,  the  probation,  in 
all  senses,  of  some  persons,  may  be  the  difficulties  in 
which  the  evidence  of  religion  is  involved:  and  their 
principal  and  distinguished  trial  may  be,  how  they  will 
behave  under  and  with  respect  to  these  difficulties. 
Circumstances  in  men's  situation  in  their  temporal  capa- 
city, analogous  in  good  measure  to  this  respecting  reli- 
gion, are  to  be  observed.  We  find  some  persons  are 
placed  in  such  a  situation  in  the  world,  as  that  their 
chief  difficulty  with  regard  to  conduct,  is  not  the  doing 
what  is  prudent  when  it  is  known;  for  this,  in  number- 
less cases,  is  as  easy  as  the  contrary:  but  to  some  the 
principal  exercise  is,  recollection  and  being  upon  their 
guard  against  deceits,  the  deceits  suppose  of  those  about 
them ;  against  false  appearances  of  reason  and  prudence. 
To  persons  in  some  situations,  the  principal  exercise 
with  respect  to  conduct  is,  attention  in  order  to  inform 
themselves  what  is  proper,  what  is  really  the  reasonable 
and  prudent  part  to  act. 

But  as  I  have  hitherto  gone  upon  supposition,  that 
men's  dissatisfaction  with  the  evidence  of  religion  is  not 
owing  to  their  neglects  or  prejudices;  it  must  be  added, 
on  the  other  hand,  in  all  common  reason,  and  as  what 
the  truth  of  the  case  plainly  requires  should  be  added, 
that  such  dissatisfaction  possibly  may  be  owing  to  those, 
possibly  may  be  men's  own  fault.  For, 

If  there  are  any  persons,  who  never  set  themselves 
heartily  and  in  earnest  to  be  informed  in  religion;  if 
there  are  any,  who  secretly  wish  it  may  not  prove  true ; 
and  are  less  attentive  to  evidence  than  to  difficulties,  and 
more  to  objections  than  to  what  is  said  in  answer  to 
them :  these  persons  will  scarce  be  thought  in  a  likely 
way  of  seeing  the  evidence  of  religion,  though  it  were 
most  certainly  true,  and  caj)able  of  being  ever  so  fully 
proved.  If  any  accustom  themselves  to  consider  this 
subject  usually  in  the  way  of  mirth  and  s])ort:  if  they 
attend  to  forms  and  representations,  and  inadecpiate  man- 
ners of  expression,  instead  of  the  real  things  intended 
by  them:  (for  signs  often  can  be  no  more  than  inade- 


238  REVELATION  NOT  UNIVERSAL :  [Part  II, 

quately  expressive  of  the  things  signified:)  or  if  they 
substitute  human  errors  in  the  room  of  divine  truth; 
why  may  not  all,  or  any  of  these  things,  hinder  some 
men  from  seeing  that  evidv.'nce,  which  really  is  seen  by 
others;  as  a  like  turn  of  mind,  with  respect  to  matters 
of  common  speculation  and  practice,  does,  we  find  by 
experience,  hinder  them  from  attaining  that  knowledge 
and  right  understanding,  in  matters  of  common  specu- 
lation and  practice,  which  more  fair  and  attentive  minds 
attain  to?  And  the  effect  will  be  the  same,  whether 
their  neglect  of  seriously  considering  the  evidence  of 
religion,  and  their  indirect  behaviour  with  regard  to  it, 
proceed  from  mere  carelessness,  or  from  the  grosser 
vices ;  or  whether  it  be  owing  to  this,  that  forms  and 
figurative  manners  of  expression,  as  well  as  errors,  ad- 
minister occasions  of  ridicule,  when  the  things  intended, 
and  the  truth  itself,  w^ould  not.  Men  may  indulge  a 
ludicrous  turn  so  far  as  to  lose  all  sense  of  conduct  and 
prudence  in  worldly  affairs,  and  even,  as  it  seems,  to 
impair  their  faculty  of  reason.  And  in  general,  levity, 
carelessness,  passion,  and  prejudice  do  hinder  us  from 
being  rightly  informed,  with  respect  to  common  things: 
and  they  may,  in  like  manner,  and  perhaps  in  some 
further  providential  manner,  with  respect  to  moral  and 
religious  subjects:  may  hinder  evidence  from  being  laid 
before  us,  and  from  being  seen  when  it  is.  The  Scrip- 
ture* does  declare,  that  every  one  shall  not  understand. 
And  it  makes  no  difference,  by  what  providential  con- 
duct this  comes  to  pass:  whether  the  evidence  of  Chris- 
tianity was,  origina-lly  and  with  design,  put  and  left  so, 
as  that  those  who  are  desirous  of  evading  moral  obliga- 
tions should  not  see  it;  and  that  honest-minded  per- 
sons should:  or,  whether  it  comes  to  pass  by  any  other 
means. 

Further :  The  general  proof  of  natural  religion  and  of 

*  Dan.  xii.  10.  See  al«^  Tsa.  xxix.  13,  14.  Matth.  vi.  23.  and  xi.  25.  and 
xiii.  II,  12.  John  iii.  19.  and  v.  44  1  Cor.  ii.  14.  and  2  Cor.  iv.  4.  2  Tim.  iii.  13. 
and  that  atrmioiiair  as  well  as  authoritativp  admonition,  so  very  many  times  iiirul- 
cated,  //<?  that  hath  ears  to  hear,  let  him  hrar.  (irotins  saw  so  strongly  the  thing 
intended  in  tli»  se  and  other  piissjipes  of  Scripture  of  the  like  sense,  as  to  say,  that  the 
fjroot  piven  ns  of  ( 'hrisiianiiy  was  jess  than  it  m  trht  have  been,  for  this  very  pur- 
pose :  lit  ttu  iermn  EvangelH  tanntiam  lapis  esset  Lyditts  ad  ^uem  ingenia  tanabilia 
9xplorarentur.    Oe  Ver.  R.  C.  lib.  ii.  towards  the  nd. 


CuAP.  VI.]       SUPPOSED  DEFICIENCY  IN  ITS  PROOF. 


239 


Christianity  does,  I  think,  He  level  to  common  men ;  even 
those,  the  greatest  part  of  whose  time,  from  childhood 
to  old  age,  is  taken  up  with  providing  for  themselves 
and  their  families  the  common  conveniences,  perhaps 
necessaries,  of  life :  those  I  mean,  of  this  rank,  who  ever 
think  at  all  of  asking  after  proof,  or  attending  to  it. 
Common  men,  w^ere  they  as  much  in  earnest  about 
religion,  as  about  their  temporal  affairs,  are  capable  of 
being  convinced  upon  real  evidence,  that  there  is  a  God 
who  governs  the  w^orld :  and  they  feel  themselves  to  be 
of  a  moral  nature,  and  accountable  creatures.  And  as 
Christianity  entirely  falls  in  with  this  their  natural  sense 
of  tilings,  so  they  are  capable,  not  only  of  being  persuad- 
ed, but  of  being  made  to  see,  that  there  is  evidence  of 
miracles  w^rought  in  attestation  of  it,  and  many  appearing 
completions  of  prophecy.  Bat  though  this  proof  is  real 
and  conclusive,  yet  it  is  liable  to  objections,  and  mav  be 
run  up  into  difficulties ;  which  however  persons  who  are 
capable  not  only  of  talking  of,  but  of  really  seeing,  are 
capable  also  of  seeing  through :  /.  e.  not  of  clearing  up 
and  answering  them,  so  as  to  satisfy  their  curiosity,  for 
of  such  knowledge  we  are  not  capable  with  respect  to 
any  one  thing  in  nature ;  but  capable  of  seeing  that  the 
proof  is  not  lost  in  these  difficulties,  or  destroyed  by 
these  objections.  But  tlien  a  thorough  examination  into 
religion  with  regard  to  tliese  objections,  which  cannot  be 
the  business  of  every  man,  is  a  matter  of  pretty  large 
compass,  and,  from  the  nature  of  it,  requires  some 
knowledge,  as  well  as  time  and  attention  ;  to  see,  how 
the  evidence  comes  out,  upon  balancing  one  tiling  witJ. 
another,  and  what,  upon  the  whole,  is  the  amount  of  it. 
Now  if  persons  who  have  picked  up  these  objections 
from  others,  and  take'  for  granted  they  are  of  weight, 
upon  the  word  of  those  from  whom  they  received  them, 
or,  by  often  retailing  of  them,  come  to  see  or  fiuiey  they 
see  them  to  be  of  weight;  will  not  ])repare  themselves 
for  such  an  examination,  with  a  competent  deuree  of 
knowledge  ;  or  will  not  give  that  time  and  attention  to 
the  subject,  which,  from  the  nature  of  it,  is  necessary  for 
attaining  such  information:  in  this  case,  they  must  remain 
in  doubtfulness,  ignorance,  or  error :  in  the  same  way  as 


240  REVELATION  NOT  universal:  [Part  n. 

they  must,  with  regard  to  common  sciences,  and  matters 
of  common  Ufe,  if  they  neglect  the  necessary  means  of 
being  informed  in  them. 

But  still  perhaps  it  will  be  objected,  that  if  a  prince  or 
common  master  were  to  send  directions  to  a  servant,  he 
would  take  care,  that  they  should  always  bear  the  certain 
marks,  who  they  came  from,  and  that  their  sense  should 
be  always  plain  :  so  as  that  there  should  be  no  possible 
doubt  if  he  could  help  it,  concerning  the  authority  or 
meaning  of  them.  Now  the  proper  answer  to  all  this 
kind  of  objections  is,  that,  wherever  the  fallacy  lies,  it  is 
even  certain  we  cannot  argue  thus  with  respect  to  Him, 
who  is  the  governor  of  the  world :  and  particularly  that 
he  does  not  afford  us  such  information,  with  respect  to 
our  temporal  affairs  and  interests,  as  experience  abun- 
dantly shows.  However,  there  is  a  full  answer  to  this 
objection,  from  the  very  nature  of  religion.  For,  the 
reason  why  a  prince  would  give  his  directions  in  this 
plain  manner  is,  that  he  absolutely  desires  such  an  ex- 
ternal action  should  be  done,  without  concerning  himself 
with  the  motive  or  principle  upon  which  it  is  done :  i,  e, 
he  regards  only  the  external  event,  or  the  thing's  being 
done  ;  and  not  at  all,  properly  speaking,  the  doing  of  it, 
or  the  action.  Whereas  the  whole  of  morality  and 
religion  consisting  merely  in  action  itself,  there  is  no 
sort  of  parallel  between  the  cases.  But  if  the  prince  be 
supposed  to  regard  only  the  action ;  i.  e.  only  to  desire 
to  exercise,  or  in  any  sense  prove,  the  understanding  or 
loyalty  of  a  servant ;  he  would  not  always  give  his  orders 
in  such  a  plain  manner.  It  may  be  proper  to  add,  that 
the  will  of  God,  respecting  morality  and  religion,  may 
be  considered  either  as  absolute,  or  as  only  conditional. 
If  it  be  absolute,  it  can  only  be  thus,  tliat  we  should  act 
virtuously  in  such  given  circumstances ;  not  that  we 
should  be  brought  to  act  so,  by  his  changing  of  our 
circumstances.  And  if  God's  will  be  thus  absolute, 
then  it  is  in  our  power,  in  the  highest  and  strictest  sense, 
to  do  or  to  contradict  his  will ;  which  is  a  most  weighty 
consideratioTi.  Or  his  will  may  be  considered  only  as 
conditional,  that  if  we  act  so  and  so,  wc  shall  be  reward- 
ed ;  if  otherwise,  punished :  of  which  conditional  will  of 


CsAP.  VI.]       SUPPOSED  DEFICIENCY  IN  ITS  PROOF.  241 

the  Author  of  Nature,  the  whole  constitution  of  it  affords 
most  certain  instances. 

Upon  the  whole:  that  we  are  in  a  state  of  religion 
necessarily  implies,  that  we  are  in  a  state  of  probation: 
and  the  credibility  of  our  being  at  all  in  such  a  state 
being  admitted,  there  seems  no  peculiar  difficulty  in 
supposing  our  probation  to  be,  just  as  it  is,  in  those 
respects  which  are  above  objected  against.  There  seems 
no  pretence,  from  the  reason  of  the  thing,  to  say,  that  the 
trial  cannot  equitably  be  any  thing,  but  whether  persons 
will  act  suitably  to  certain  information,  or  such  as  admits 
no  room  for  doubt ;  so  as  that  there  can  be  no  danger 
of  miscarriage,  but  either  from  their  not  attending  to 
what  they  certainly  know,  or  from  overbearing  passion 
hurrying  them  on  to  act  contrary  to  it.  For,  since  igno- 
rance and  doubt  afford  scope  for  probation  in  all  senses, 
as  really  as  intuitive  conviction  or  certainty;  and  since 
the  two  former  are  to  be  put  to  the  same  account  as 
difficulties  in  practice;  men's  moral  probation  may  also 
be,  whether  they  will  take  due  care  to  inform  themselves 
by  impartial  consideration,  and  afterwards  whether  they 
will  act  as  the  case  requires,  upon  the  evidence  which 
they  have,  however  doubtful.  And  this,  we  find  by 
experience^  is  frequently  our  probation,*  in  our  temporal 
capacity.  For,  the  information  which  we  want  with 
regard  to  our  worldly  interests  is  by  no  means  always 
given  us  of  course,  without  any  care  of  our  own.  And 
we  are  greatly  liable  to  self-deceit  from  inward  secret 
prejudices,  and  also  to  the  deceits  of  others.  So  that  to 
be  able  to  judge  wliat  is  the  prudent  part,  often  requires 
much  and  difficult  consideration.  Then  after  we  have 
judged  the  very  best  we  can,  the  evidence  upon  which 
we  must  act,  if  we  will  live  and  act  at  all,  is  perpetually 
doubtful  to  a  very  \\\^\\  degree.  And  the  constitution 
and  course  of  the  world  in  fact  is  such,  as  that  want  of 
impartial  consideration  what  we  have  to  do,  and  ventur- 
ing; upon  extravagant  courses  because  it  is  doubtful  what 
will  be  the  consequence,  are  often  naturally,  e.  provi- 
dentially, altogeUier  as  fatal,  as  misconduct  occasioned 

*  p.  78,  231,  he. 


242  OF  THE  PARTICULAR  EVIDENCE  [Part  II. 

by  heedless  inattention  to  what  we  certainly  know,  or 
disregarding  it  from  overbearing  passion. 

Several  of  the  observations  here  made  may  well  seem 
strange,  perhaps  unintelligible,  to  many  good  men.  'But 
if  the  persons  for  whose  sake  they  are  made  think  so ; 
persons  who  object  as  above,  and  throw  off  all  regard  to 
religion  under  pretence  of  want  of  evidence;  I  desire 
them  to  consider  again,  whether  their  thinking  so  be 
owing  to  any  thing  unintelligible  in  these  observations, 
or  to  their  own  not  having  such  a  sense  of  rehgion  and 
serious  solicitude  about  it,  as  even  their  state  of  scepti- 
cism does  in  all  reason  require  ?  It  ought  to  be  forced 
upon  the  reflection  of  these  persons,  that  our  nature  and 
condition  necessarily  require  us,  in  the  daily  course  of 
hfe,  to  act  upon  evidence  much  lower  than  what  is  com- 
monly called  probable :  to  guard,  not  only  against  what 
we  fully  believe  will,  but  also  against  what  we  t^hink  it 
supposable  may,  happen;  and  to  engage  in  pursuits 
w^hen  the  probability  is  greatly  against  success,  if  it  be 
credible,  that  possibly  we  may  succeed  in  them. 

CHAP.  VII. 

OF  THE  PARTICULAR  EVIDENCE  FOR  CHRISTIANITY. 

The  presumptions  against  revelation,  and  objections 
against  the  general  scheme  of  Christianity,  and  particu- 
lar things  relating  to  it,  being  removed;  there  remains 
to  be  considered,  what  positive  evidence  we  have  for 
the  truth  of  it;  chiefly  in  order  to  see,  what  the  analogy 
of  nature  suggests  with  regard  to  that  evidence,  and  the 
objections  against  it:  or  to  see  what  is,  and  is  allowed 
to  be,  the  plain  natural  rule  of  judgment  and  of  action, 
in  our  temporal  concerns,  in  cases  where  we  have  the 
same  kind  of  evidence,  and  the  same  kind  of  objections 
against  it,  that  we  have  in  the  case  before  us. 

Now  in  the  evidence  of  Christianity  there  seem  to  be 
several  things  of  great  weight,  not  reducible  to  the  head^ 
either  of  miracles,  or  the  completion  of  prophecy,  in  the 
common  acceptation  of  the  words.    But  these  two  are 


I 


CUAP.  VII.]  FOR  CHRISTIANITY.  243 

its  direct  and  fandamental  proofs:  and  those  other  things, 
however  considerable  they  are,  yet  ought  never  to  be 
urged  apart  from  its  direct  proofs,  but  always  to  be 
joined  with  them.  Thus  the  evidence  of  Christianity 
will  be  a  long  series  of  things,  reaching,  as  it  seems,  from 
the  beginning  of  the  world  to  the  present  time,  of  great 
variety  and  compass,  taking  in  both  the  direct  and  also  the 
collateral,  proofs;  and  making  up,  all  of  them  together, 
one  argument:  the  conviction  arising  from  which  kind 
of  proof  may  be  compared  to  what  they  call  the  effect 
in  architecture  or  other  works  of  art;  a  result  from  a 
great  number  of  things  so  and  so  disposed,  and  taken 
into  one  view.  I  shall  therefore,  first ^  make  some 
observations  relating  to  miracles,  and  the  appearing 
completions  of  prophecy;  and  consider  what  analogy 
suggests,  in  answer  to  the  objections  brought  against 
this  evidence.  And,  secondly y  I  shall  endeavour  to  give 
some  account  of  the  general  argument  now  mentioned, 
consisting  both  of  the  direct  and  collateral  evidence, 
considered  as  making  up  one  argument:  this  being  the  ^ 
kind  of  proof,  upon  which  we  determine  most  questions 
of  difficulty,  concerning  common  facts,  alleged  to  have 
happened,  or  seeming  likely  to  happen;  especially  ques- 
tions relating  to  conduct. 

First,  I  shall  make  some  observations  upon  the  direct 
proof  of  Christianity  from  miracles  and  prophecy,  and 
upon  the  objections  alleged  against  it. 

I.  Now  the  following  observations  relating  to  the  his- 
torical evidence  of  miracles  wrought  in  attestation  of 
Christianity  appear  to  be  of  great  weight. 

1.  The  Old  Testament  affords  us  the  same  historical 
evidence  of  the  miracles  of  Moses  and  of  the  pro])lKts, 
as  of  the  common  civil  history  of  Moses  and  the  kings 
of  Israel;  or,  as  of  the  affairs  of  the  Jewish  nation.  And 
the  Gospels  and  the  Acts  afford  us  the  same  historical 
evidence  of  the  miracles  of  Christ  and  the  Apostles,  as 
of  the  common  matters  related  in  them.  This  indeed 
could  not  have  been  affirmed  by  any  reasonable^  man,  if 
the  authors  of  these  books,  like  many  other  historians, 
had  appeared  to  make  an  entertaining  manner  of  writ- 
ing their  aim ;  though  they  had  interspersed  miracles  in 


244  OF  THE  PARTICULAR  EVIDENCE  [Part  II. 

their  works,  at  proper  distances  and  upon  proper  oc- 
casions.    These  might  have  animated  a  dull  relation, 
amused  the  reader,  and  engaged  his  attention.    And  the 
same  account  would  naturally  have  been  given  of  them, 
as  of  the  speeches  and  descriptions  of  such  authors :  the 
same  account,  in  a  manner,  as  is  to  be  given,  why  the 
poets  make  use  of  wonders  and  prodigies.    But  the 
facts,  both  miraculous  and  natural,  in  Scripture,  are 
related  in  plain  unadorned  narratives:  and  both  of  them  § 
appear,  in  all  respects,  to  stand  upon  the  same  foot  of 
historical  evidence.    Further:  some  parts  of  Scripture, 
containing  an  account  of  miracles  fully  sufficient  to  prove 
the  truth  of  Christianity,  are  quoted  as  genuine,  from 
the  age  in  which  they  are  said  to  be  written,  down  to 
the  present:  and  no  other  parts  of  them,  material  in  the 
present  question,  are  omitted  to  be  quoted  in  such  man- 
ner, as  to  afford  any  sort  of  proof  of  their  not  being 
genuine.     And,  as  common  history,  when  called  in 
question  in  any  instance,  may  often  be  greatly  confirmed 
by  contemporary  or  subsequent  events  more  known  and 
acknowledged;  and  as  the  common  Scripture  history, 
like  many  others,  is  thus  confirmed;  so  likewise  is  the 
miraculous  history  of  it,  not  only  in  particular  instances, 
but  in  general.     For,  the  establishment  of  the  Jewish  and 
Christian  religions,  which  were  events  contemporary  with 
the  miracles  related  to  be  wrought  in  attestation  of  both, 
or  subsequent  to  them,  these  events  are  just  what  we 
should  have  expected,  upon  supposition  such  miracles 
were  really  wrought  to  attest  the  truth  of  those  religions. 
These  miracles  are  a  satisfactory  account  of  those  events: 
of  which  no  other  satisfactory  account  can  be  given ;  nor 
any  account  at  all,  but  what  is  imaginary  merely,  and 
invented.    It  is  to  be  added,  that  the  most  obvious,  the 
most  easy  and  direct  account  of  this  history,  how  it  came 
to  be  written  and  to  be  received  in  the  world,  as  a  true 
history,  is,  that  it  really  is  so:  nor  can  any  other  account 
of  it  be  easy  and  direct.    Now,  though  an  account,  not 
at  all  obvious,  but  very  far-fetched  and  indirect,  may 
indeed  be,  and  often  is,  the  true  account  of  a  matter; 
yet  it  cannot  be  admitted  on  the  authority  of  its  being 
asserted.     Mere  guess,  supposition,   and  possibility. 


Chap.VII.]  for  CHRISTIANITY.  245 

when  opposed  to  historical  evidence,  prove  nothing,  but 
that  historical  evidence  is  not  demonstrative. 

Now  the  just  consequence  from  all  this,  I  think,  is, 
that  the  Scripture-history  in  general  is  to  be  admitted  as 
an  authentic  genuine  history,  till  somewhat  positive  be 
alleged  sufficient  to  invalidate  it.  But  no  man  will  deny 
the  consequence  to  be,  that  it  cannot  be  rejected,  or 
thrown  by  as  of  no  authority,  till  it  can  be  proved  to  be 
of  none  ;  even  though  the  evidence  now  mentioned  for 
its  authority  were  doubtful.  This  evidence  may  be  con- 
fronted by  historical  evidence  on  the  other  side,  if  there 
be  any  :  or  general  incredibility  in  the  things  related,  or 
inconsistence  in  the  general  turn  of  the  history,  would 
prove  it  to  be  of  no  authority.  But  since,  upon  the  face 
of  the  matter,  upon  a  first  and  general  view,  the  appear- 
ance is,  that  it  is  an  authentic  history;  it  cannot  be  de- 
termined to  be  fictitious  without  some  proof  that  it  is  so. 
And  the  following  observations  in  support  of  these,  and 
coincident  with  them,  will  greatly  confirm  the  historical 
eridence  for  the  truth  of  Christianity. 

2.  The  Epistles  of  St  Paul,  from  the  nature  of  episto- 
lary writing,  and  moreover  from  several  of  them  being 
written,  not  to  particular  persons,  but  to  churches,  carry 
in  them  evidences  of  their  being  genuine,  beyond  what 
can  be  in  a  mere  historical  narrative,  left  to  the  world  at 
large.  This  evidence,  joined  with  that  which  they  have 
in  common  with  the  rest  of  the  New  Testament,  seems 
not  to  leave  so  much  as  any  particular  pretence  for  deny- 
ing their  genuineness,  coii:<idered  as  an  ordinary  matter 
of  fact,  or  of  criticism:  I  say  parlicidar  pretence,  for 
denying  it;  because  any  single  fact,  of  such  a  kind  and 
sucli  antiquity,  may  have  general  doubts  raised  concern- 
ing it,  from  the  very  nature  of  luunan  afiairs  and  human, 
testimony.  There  is  also  to  be  mentioned  a  distinct  and 
particular  evidence  of  the  genuineness  of  the  cj^istle 
chiefly  referred  to  here,  the  first  to  the  Corinthians  ;  from 
the  manner  in  which  it  is  quoted  by  Clemens  Romanus, 
in  an  epistle  of  his  own  to  that  church.*  Now  these 
epistles  afford  a  proof  of  Christianity,  detached  from  all 


*  Clem.  Rom.  Kp.  1.  c.  47. 


246  OF  THE  PARTICULAR  EVIDENCE  [Part  II. 

others,  which  is,  I  think,  a  thing  of  weight;  and  also  a 
proof  of  a  nature  and  kind  pecuhar  to  itself.  For, 

In  them  the  author  declares,  that  he  received  the  Gos- 
pel in  general,  and  the  institution  of  the  Communion  in 
particular,  not  from  the  rest  of  the  Apostles,  or  jointly 
together  with  them,  but  alone,  from  Christ  himself ; 
whom  he  declares  likewise,  conformably  to  the  history 
in  the  Acts,  that  he  saw  after  his  ascension.*  So  that 
the  testimony  of  St  Paul  is  to  be  considered,  as  detached 
from  that  of  the  rest  of  the  Apostles. 

And  he  declares  further,  that  he  was  endued  with  a 
power  of  working  miracles,  as  what  was  publicly  known 
to  those  very  people,  speaks  of  frequent  and  great  variety 
of  miraculous  gifts  as  then  subsisting  in  those  very 
churches,  to  which  he  was  writing  ;  which  he  was  re- 
proving for  several  irregularities ;  and  where  he  had 
personal  opposers :  he  mentions  these  gifts  incidentally, 
in  the  most  easy  manner,  and  without  effort ;  by  way  of 
reproof  to  those  who  had  them,  for  their  indecent  use  of 
them  ;  and  by  way  of  depreciating  them,  in  comparison 
of  moral  virtues :  in  short  he  speaks  to  these  churches, 
of  these  miraculous  powers,  in  the  manner,  any  one 
would  speak  to  another  of  a  thing,  which  was  as  familiar 
and  as  much  known  in  common  to  them  both,  as  any 
thing  in  the  world.!  And  this,  as  hath  been  observed 
by  several  persons,  is  surely  a  very  considerable  thing. 

3.  It  is  an  acknowledged  historical  fact,  that  Christia- 
nity offered  itself  to  the  world,  and  demanded  to  be  re- 
ceived, upon  the  allegation,  i.  e.  as  unbelievers  would 
speak,  upon  the  pretence,  of  miracles,  publicly  wrought 
to  attest  the  truth  of  it,  in  such  an  age ;  and  that  it  was 
actually  received  by  great  numbers  in  that  very  age,  and 
upon  the  professed  belief  of  the  reality  of  these  miracles. 
And  Christianity,  including  the  dispensation  of  the  Old 
Testament,  seems  distinguished  by  this  from  all  other 
religions.  I  mean,  that  this  does  not  appear  to  be  the 
case  with  regard  to  any  other;  for  surely  it  will  not  be 
supposed  to  lie  upon  any  person,  to  prove  by  positive 

*  Gal.  i.  1  Cor.  xi.  23,  he.  1  Cor.  xv.  8.  f  ^"^"i.  xv.  19.  1  Cor.  xii.  8,  9, 

10-28,  fiic.  ami  xiii.  1,  2,  8.  the  whole  SLivth  rjiapler.  2  Cor.  xii.  12.  13.  GaL 
Hi.  2,  5. 


Chap.  VIT.] 


FOR  CHRISTTANIT\. 


247 


historical  evidence,  that  it  was  not.  It  does  in  no  sort 
appear  that  Mahometanism  was  first  received  in  the 
world  upon  the  foot  of  supposed  miracles,*  i.  e.  public 
ones:  for,  as  revelation  is  itself  miraculous,  all  pretence 
to  it  must  necessarily  imply  some  pretence  of  miracles. 
And  it  is  a  known  fact,  that  it  was  immediately,  at  the 
very  first,  propagated  by  other  means.  And  as  parti- 
cular institutions,  whether  in  Paganism  or  Popery,  said 
to  be  confirmed  by  miracles  after  those  institutions  had 
obtained,  are  not  to  the  purpose  :  so,  were  there  what 
might  be  called  historical  proof,  that  any  of  them  were 
introduc  d  by  a  supposed  divine  command,  believed  to 
be  attested  by  miracles ;  these  would  not  be  in  any  wise 
parallel.  For  single  things  of  this  sort  are  easy  to  be 
accounted  for,  after  parties  are  formed,  and  have  power 
in  their  hands  ;  and  the  leaders  of  them  are  in  veneration 
with  the  multitude ;  and  political  interests  are  blended 
with  religious  claims,  and  religious  distinctions.  But  be- 
fore any  thing  of  this  kind,  for  a  few  persons,  and  those 
of  the  lowest  rank,  all  at,  once,  to  brinjr  over  such  great 
numbers  to  a  new  religion,  and  get  it  to  be  received 
upon  the  particular  evidence  of  miracles;  tliis  is  quite 
another  thing.  And  I  think  it  will  be  allowed  by  any 
fair  adversary,  that  the  fact  now  mentioned,  taking  in  all 
the  circumstances  of  it,  is  peculiar  to  the  Christian  reli- 
gion. However,  the  fact  itself  is  allowed,  that  Christianity 
obtained,  i.  e.  was  professed  to  be  received  in  the  world, 
upon  the  belief  of  miracles,  immediately  in  the  age  in 
which  it  is  said  those  miracles  were  wrought :  or  that 
this  is  what  its  first  converts  would  have  alleged,  as  the 
reason  for  their  embracing  it.  Now  certainly  it  is  not  to 
be  supposed  that  such  numbers  of  men,  in  the  most  dis- 
tant parts  of  the  world  should  forsake  the  religion  of 
their  country,  in  which  thev  had  been  educated;  sepa- 
rate themselves  from  (luMr  friends,  particularly  in  their 
festival  shows  and  solenuiitirs,  to  which  the  coinmc^i 
people  are  so  greatly  addicted,  and  which  were  of  a  na- 
ture to  engage  them  much  more,  than  any  thinu  of  that 
sort  amongst  us;  and  embrace  a  rc^liizion,  which  co\ild 
not  but  expose  them  to  many  incoiiviMiicnccs,  and  in- 

♦  S«'f  llu-  Koniii,c.  xiii.  mill  r.  \\  V\. 

i 


248  OF  THE  PARTICULAR  EVIDENCE  [PAaTlI> 

deed  must  have  been  a  giving  up  the  world  in  a  great 
degree,  even  from  the  very  first,  and  before  the  empire 
engaged  in  form  against  them :  it  cannot  be  supposed, 
that  such  numbers  should  make  so  great,  and,  to  say  the 
least,  so  inconvenient  a  change  in  their  whole  institution- 
of  life,  unless  they  were  really  convinced  of  the  truth  of 
those  miracles,  upon  the  knowledge  or  belief  of  which 
they  professed  to  make  it.  And  it  will,  I  suppose,  readily 
be  acknowledged,  that  the  generality  of  the  first  converts 
to  Christianity  must  have  believed  them :  that  as  by  be- 
coming Christians  they  declared  to  the  world,  they  were 
satisfied  of  the  truth  of  those  miracles  ;  so  this  declara- 
tion was  to  be  credited.  And  this  their  testimony  is  the 
same  kind  of  evidence  for  those  miracles,  as  if  they  had 
put  it  in  writing,  and  these  writings  had  come  down  to 
us.  And  it  is  real  evidence,  because  it  is  of  facts,  which 
they  had  capacity  and  full  opportunity  to  inform  them- 
selves of.  It  is  also  distinct  from  the  direct  or  expres? 
historical  evidence,  though  it  is  of  the  same  kind:  audit 
would  be  allowed  to  be  distinct  in  all  cases.  For  were 
a  fact  expressly  related  by  one  or  more  ancient  histo- 
rians, and  disputed  in  after  ages  ;  that  this  fact  is  acknow- 
ledged to  have  been  believed  by  great  numbers  of  the 
age  in  which  the  historian  says  it  was  done,  would  be 
allowed  an  additional  proof  of  such  fact,  quite  distinct 
from  the  express  testimony  of  the  historian.  The  cre- 
dulity of  mankind  is  acknowledged:  and  the  suspicions- 
of  mankind  ought  to  be  acknowledged  too;  and  their 
backwardness  even  to  believe,  and  greater  still  to  prac- 
tise, what  makes  against  their  interest.  And  it  must 
particularly  be  remembered,  that  education,  and  prejudice, 
and  authority,  were  against  Christianity,  in  the  age  I  am 
speaking  of.  So  that  the  immediate  conversion  of  such 
numbers  is  a  real  presumption  of  somewhat  more  than 
human  in  this  matter:  I  say  presumption,  for  it  is  not 
alleged  as  a  proof  alone  and  by  itself.  Nor  need  any  one 
of  the  things  mentionid  in  this  Chapter  be  considered' 
as  a  proof  by  itself:  and  yet  all  of  them  together  may  be 
one  of  the  strongest.* 

Upon  the  whole:  as  ^bere  is  large  historical  evidence^ 

*  p.  273,  &c. 


Chap.  VII.J 


FOR  CHRISTIANITY. 


249 


both  direct  and  circumstantial,  of  miracles  wrought  in 
attestation  of  Christianity,  collected  by  those  who  have 
writ  upon  the  subject ;  it  hes  upon  unbelievers  to  show, 
why  this  evidence  is  not  to  be  credited.  This  way  of 
speaking  is,  I  think,  just;  and  what  persons  who  write 
in  defence  of  religion  naturally  fall  into.  Yet,  in  a  matter 
of  such  unspeakable  importance,  the  proper  question  is, 
not  whom  it  lies  upon,  according  to  the  rules  of  argu- 
ment,  to  maintain  or  confute  objections:  but  whether 
there  really  are  any,  against  this  evidence,  sufficient,  in 
reason,  to  destroy  the  credit  of  it.  However,  unbelievers 
seem  to  take  upon  them  the  part  of  showing  that  there 
are. 

They  allege,  that  numberless  enthusiastic  people,  in 
different  ages  and  countries,  expose  themselves  to  the 
same  difficulties  which  the  primitive  Christians  did  ;  and 
are  ready  to  give  up  their  lives  for  the  most  idle  follies 
imaginable.  But  it  is  not  very  clear,  to  what  purpose 
this  objection  is  brought.  For  every  one,  surely,  in 
every  case,  must  distinguish  between  opinions  and  facts. 
And  though  testimony  is  no  proof  of  enthusiastic  opi- 
nions, or  of  any  opinions  at  all ;  yet  it  is  allowed,  in  all 
other  cases,  to  be  a  proof  of  facts.  And  a  person's  lay- 
ing down  his  life  in  attestation  of  facts  or  of  opinions, 
is  the  strongest  proof  of  his  believing  them.  And  if  the 
Apostles  and  their  contemporaries  did  believe  the  facts,, 
in  attestation  of  which  they  exposed  themselves  to  suf- 
ferings and  death;  this  their  belief,  or  rather  knowledge, 
must  be  a  proof  of  those  facts :  for  they  were  such  as 
came  under  the  observation  of  their  senses.  And  though 
it  is  not  of  equal  weight,  yet  it  is  of  weight,  that  the 
martyrs  of  the  next  age,  notwithstanding  they  were  not 
eye-witnesses  of  those  facts,  as  were  the  Apostles  and 
their  contemporaries,  had,  however,  full  opportunity  ta 
inform  themselves,  whether  they  were  true  or  not,  and 
gave  equal  proof  of  their  believing  them  to  be  true. 

But  enthusiasm,  it  is  said,  greatly  weakens  the  evi- 
dence of  testimony  even  for  facts,  in  matters  rehiting  ta 
r<  hgion :  some  seem  to  think  it  totally  and  absohitely 
destroys  the  evidence  of  testimony  upon  this  subject. 
And  indeed  the  powers  of  enthusiasm,  and  of  diseases 


250  OF  THE  PARTICULAR  EVIDENCE  [Part  II. 

too,  which  operate  in  a  hke  manner,  are  very  wonderful, 
in  particular  instances.    But  if  great  numbers  of  men, 
not  appearing  in  any  pecuhar  degree  weak,  nor  under 
any  pecuhar  suspicion  of  neghgence,  affirm  that  they 
saw  and  heard  such  things  plainly  with  their  eyes  and 
their  ears,  and  are  admitted  to  be  in  earnest;  such  testi- 
mony is  evidence  of  the  strongest  kind  we  can  have,  for 
any  matter  of  fact.    Yet  possibly  it  may  be  overcome, 
strong  as  it  is,  by  incredibihty  in  the  things  thus  attest- 
ed, or  by  contrary  testimony.    And  in  an  instance  where 
one  thought  it  was  so  overcome,  it  might  be  just  to  con- 
sider, how  far  such  evidence  could  be  accounted  for,  by 
enthusiasm;  for  it  seems  as  if  no  other  imagin-able  ac- 
count were  to  be  given  of  it.    But  till  such  incredibihty 
be  shown,  or  contrary  testimony  produced,  it  cannot 
surely  be  expected,  that  so  far-fetched,  so  indirect  and 
wonderful  an  account  of  such  testimony,  as  that  of  en- 
thusiasm must  be;  an  account  so  strange,  that  the  gene- 
rality of  mankind  can  scarce  be  made  to  understand  what 
is  meant  by  it :  it  cannot,  I  say,  be  expected,  that  such 
account  will  be  admitted  of  such  evidence ;  when  there 
is  this  direct,  easy,  and  obvious  account  of  it,  that  peo- 
ple really  saw  and  heard  a  thing  not  incredible,  which 
they  affirm  sincerely  and  with  full  assurance,  they  did 
see  and  hear.    Granting  then  that  enthusiasm  is  not 
(strictly  speaking)  an  absurd,  but  a  possible  account  of 
such  testimony;  it  is  manifest,  that  the  very  mention  of  it 
goes  upon  the  previous  supposition,  that  the  things  so 
attested  are  incredible:  and  therefore  need  not  be  con- 
sidered, till  they  are  shown  to  be  so.    Much  less  need  it 
be  considered,  after  the  contrary  has  been  proved.  And 
I  think  it  has  been  proved,  to  full  satisfaction,  that  there 
is  no  incredibility  in  a  revelation,  in  general ;  or  in  such 
a  one  as  the  Christian,  in  particular.    However,  as  reh- 
gion  is  supposed  peculiarly  liable  to  enthusiasm,  it  may 
just  be  observed,  that  prejudices  almost  without  number, 
and  without  name,  romance,  affectation,  humour,  a  desire 
to  engage  attention,  or  to  surprise,  the  party  spirit,  custom, 
httle  competitions,  unaccountable  likings  and  dislikings; 
these  influence  men  strongly  in  common  matters.  And 
as  these  prejudices  are  often  scarce  known  or  reflected 


CHAP.Vn.]  F<5R  CHRISTIANITY.  2bl 

upon  Iby  the  persons  themselves  who  are  influenced  by 
them,  they  are  to  be  considered  as  influences  of  a  like 
kind  to  enthusiasm.  Yet  human  testimony  in  com- 
mon matters  is  naturally  and  justly  beheved  notwith- 
standing. 

It  is  intimated  further,  in  a  more  refined  way  of  obser- 
vation, that  though  it  should  be  proved,  that  the  Apostles 
and  first  Christians  could  not,  in  some  respects,  be  de- 
ceived themselves,  and,  in  other  respects,  cannot  be 
thought  to  have  intended  to  impose  upon  the  world  ;  yet 
it  will  not  follow,  that  their  general  testimony  is  to  be 
believed,  though  truly  handed  down  to  us:  because  they 
might  still  in  part,  i.  e.  in  other  respects,  be  deceived 
themselves,  and  in  part  also  designedly  impose  upon 
others ;  w^hich,  it  is  added,  is  a  thing  very  credible,  from 
that  mixture  of  real  enthusiasm,  and  real  knavery,  to  be 
met  with  in  the  same  characters.  And,  I  must  confess, 
I  think  the  matter  of  fact  contained  in  this  observation 
upon  mankind  is  not  to  be  denied  ;  and  that  somewhat 
very  much  akin  to  it  is  often  supposed  in  Scripture  as  a 
very  common  case,  and  most  severely  reproved.  But  it 
were  to  have  been  expected,  that  persons  capable  of 
applying  this  observation  as  applied  in  the  objection, 
might  also  frequently  have  met  with  the  like  mixed  cha- 
racter, in  instances  where  religion  was  quite  out  of  the 
case.  The  thing  plainly  is,  that  mankind  are  naturally 
endued  with  reason,  or  a  capacity  of  distinguishing  be- 
tween truth  and  falsehood ;  and  as  naturally  they  are 
endued  with  veracity,  or  a  regard  to  truth  in  what  they 
say:  but  from  many  occasions  they  are  liable  to  be  pre- 
judiced and  biassed  and  deceived  themselves,  and  capa- 
ble of  intending  to  deceive  others,  in  every  degree:  in- 
somuch that,  as  we  are  all  liable  to  be  deceived  by  pre- 
judice, so  likewise  it  seems  to  be  not  an  uncommon  thing, 
for  persons,  who,  from  their  regard  to  truth,  would  not 
invent  a  lie  entirely  without  any  foundation  at  all,  to 
propagate  it  with  heightening  circumstances,  aft(  r  it  is 
once  invented  and  set  agoing.  And  others,  though  they 
would  not  propaqtite  a  lie,  yet,  which  is  a  lower  degree 
of  falsehood,  will  let  it  ])ass  without  contradiction.  But, 
notwitlistanding  all  lliis,  lnM'\in  testinion}  remains  still  a 


I 

252  OF  THE  PARTICULAR  EVIDENCE  TPart  11. 

natural  ground  of  assent;  and  this  assent  a  natural  prin- 
ciple of  action. 

It  is  objected  further,  that  however  it  has  happened, 
the  fact  is,  that  mankind  have,  in  different  ages,  been 
strangely  deluded  with  pretences  to  miracles  and  won- 
ders. But  it  is  by  no  means  to  be  admitted,  that  they 
have  been  oftener,  or  are  at  all  more  liable  to  be  deceived 
by  these  pretences,  than  by  others. 

It  is  added,  that  there  is  a  very  considerable  degree  of 
historical  evidence  for  miracles,  which  are,  on  all  hands, 
acknowledged  to  be  fabulous.  But  suppose  there  were 
even  the  like  historical  evidence  for  these,  to  what  there 
is  for  those  alleged  in  proof  of  Christianity,  which  yet  is 
in  no  wise  allowed,  but  suppose  this ;  the  consequence 
would  not  be,  that  the  evidence  of  the  latter  is  not  to  be 
admitted.  Nor  is  there  a  man  in  the  world,  who,  in 
common  cases,  would  conclude  thus.  For  what  would 
such  a  conclusion  really  amount  to  but  this,  that  evidence, 
confuted  by  contrary  evidence,  or  any  way  overbalanced, 
destroys  the  credibility  of  other  evidence,  neither  con- 
futed, nor  overbalanced  ?  To  argue,  that  because  there 
is,  if  there  were,  like  evidence  from  testimony,  for  mira- 
cles acknowledged  false,  as  for  those  in  attestation  of 
Christianity,  therefore  the  evidence  in  the  latter  case  is 
not  to  be  credited ;  this  is  the  same  as  to  argue,  that  if 
two  men  of  equally  good  reputation  had  given  evidence 
in  different  cases  no  way  connected,  and  one  of  them 
had  been  convicted  of  perjury,  this  confuted  the  testi- 
mony of  the  other. 

Upon  the  whole  then,  the  general  observation,  that 
human  creatures  are  so  liable  to  be  deceived,  from  en- 
thusiasm in  religion,  and  principles  equivalent  to  enthu- 
siasm in  common  matters,  and  in  both  from  negligence  ; 
and  that  they  are  so  capable  of  dishonestly  endeavouring 
to  deceive  others;  this  does  indeed  weaken  the  evidence 
of  testimony  in  all  cases,  but  does  not  destroy  it  in  any. 
And  these  things  will  appear,  to  different  men,  to  weaken 
the  evidence  of  testimony,  in  different  degrees :  in  de- 
grees proportionable  to  the  observations  they  have  made, 
or  the  notions  they  have  any  way  taken  up,  concerning 
the  weakness  and  negligence  and  dishonesty  of  man- 


Chap.  VII.]  FOR  CHRISTIANITY.  253 

kind;  or  concerning  the  powers  of  enthusiasm,  and  pre- 
judices equivalent  to  it.  But  it  seems  to  me,  that  peo- 
ple do  not  know  what  they  say,  who  affirm  these  things 
to  destroy  the  evidence  from  testimony,  which  we  have 
of  the  truth  of  Christianity.  Nothing  can  destroy  the 
evidence  of  testimony  in  any  case,  but  a  proof  or  pro- 
bability, that  persons  are  not  competent  judges  of  the 
facts  to  which  they  give  testimony  ;  or  that  they  are 
actually  under  some  indirect  influence  in  giving  it,  in 
sQch  particular  case.  Till  this  be  made  out,  the  natural 
laws  of  human  actions  require,  that  testimony  be  ad- 
mitted. It  can  never  be  sufficient  to  overthrow  direct 
historical  evidence,  indolently  to  say,  that  there  are  so 
many  principles,  from  whence  men  are  liable  to  be  de- 
ceived themselves,  and  disposed  to  deceive  others,  espe- 
cially in  matters  of  religion,  that  one  knows  not  what  to 
believe.  And  it  is  surprising  persons  can  help  reflect- 
ing, that  this  very  manner  of  speaking  supposes  they 
are  not  satisfied  that  there  is  nothing  hi  the  evidence, 
of  which  they  speak  thus  ;  or  that  they  can  avoid  observ- 
ing, if  they  do  make  this  reflection,  that  it  is  on  such  a 
subject,  a  very  material  one.* 

And  over  against  all  these  objections  is  to  be  set  the 
importance  of  Christianity,  as  what  must  have  engaged 
the  attention  of  its  first  converts,  so  as  to  have  rendered 
them  less  liable  to  be  deceived  from  carelessness,  than 
they  would  in  common  matters ;  and  likewise  the  strong 
obligations  to  veracity,  which  their  religion  laid  them 
under:  so  that  the  first  and  most  obvious  presumption 
is,  that  thev  could  not  be  deceived  themselves  nor  de- 
ceive  others.  And  this  presumption,  in  this  deirree,  is 
peculiar  to  the  testimony  we  have  been  considering. 

In  argument,  assertions  are  nothing  in  themselves, 
and  have  an  air  of  positivcness  which  sometimes  is  not 
very  easy:  yet  they  are  necessary,  and  necessary  to  be 
repeated ;  in  order  to  connect  a  discourse,  and  distinctly 
to  lay  before  the  view  of  the  reader,  what  is  i^roposcd  to 
be  proved,  and  what  is  left  as  proved.  Now  the  conclu- 
sion from  the  foregoing  observations  is,  I  think,  beyond 
all  doubt,  this :  that  unbelievers  must  be  forced  to  admit 


St*e  Uie  forrgo  rg  CI  npter. 


254  OF  THE  PARTICULAR  EVIDENCE.  [Part  11. 

the  external  evidence  for  Christianity,  i.  e.  the  proof  of 
miracles  wrought  to  attest  it,  to  be  of  real  weight  and  very 
considerable  ;  though  they  cannot  allow  it  to  be  sufficient, 
to  convince  them  of  the  reality  of  those  miracles.  And 
as  they  must,  in  all  reason,  admit  this ;  so  it  seems  to 
me,  that  upon  consideration  they  would,  in  fact,  admit 
it ;  those  of  them,  I  mean,  who  know  any  thing  at  all  of 
the  matter  ;  in  like  manner  as  persons,  in  many  cases, 
own  they  see  strong  evidence  from  testimony,  for  the 
truth  of  things,  which  yet  they  cannot  be  convinced  are 
true  :  cases,  suppose,  where  there  is  contrary  testimony ; 
or  things  which  they  think,  whether  with  or  without 
reason,  to  be  incredible.  But  there  is  no  testimony 
contrary  to  that  which  we  have  been  considering :  and 
it  has  been  fully  proved,  that  there  is  no  incredibility  in 
Christianity  in  general,  or  in  any  part  of  it. 

II.  As  to  the  evidence  for  Christianity  from  prophecy, 
I  shall  only  make  some  few  general  observations,  which 
are  suggested  by  the  Analogy  of  Nature  ;  i.  e.  by  the  ac- 
knowledged natural  rules  of  judging  in  common  matters, 
concerning  evidence  of  a  like  kind  to  this  from  pro- 
phecy. 

1.  The  obscurity  or  unintelligibleness  of  one  part  of 
a  prophecy  does  not,  in  any  degree,  invalidate  the  proof 
of  foresight,  arising  from  the  appearing  completion  of 
those  other  parts,  which  are  understood.  For  the  case 
is  evidently  the  same,  as  if  those  parts,  which  are  not 
understood,  were  lost,  or  not  written  at  all,  or  written  in 
an  unknown  tongue.  Whether  this  observation  be  com- 
monly attended  to  or  not,  it  is  so  evident,  that  one  can 
scarce  bring  oneself  to  set  down  an  instance  in  common 
matters,  to  exemplify  it.  However,  suppose  a  writing, 
partly  in  cipher,  and  partly  in  plain  words  at  length  ;  and 
that  in  the  part  one  understood,  there  appeared  mention 
of  several  known  facts  ;  it  would  never  come  into  any 
man's  thoughts  to  imagine,  that  if  he  understood  the  whole, 
perhaps  he  might  find,  that  those  facts  were  not  in  reality 
Isnown  by  the  writer.  Indeed,  both  in  this  example  and 
the  thing  intended  to  be  exemplified  by  it,  our  not  under- 
standing the  whole  (the  whole,  suppose,  of  a  sentence  or 
a  paragraph)  might  sometimes  occasion  a  doubt,  whether 


Chap.  Vn.]  FOR  CHRISTIANITY.  255 

one  understood  the  literal  meaning  of  such  a  part :  but 
this  comes  under  another  consideration. 

For  the  same  reason,  though  a  man  should  be  inca- 
pable, for  want  of  learning,  or  opportunities  of  inquiry,  or 
from  not  having  turned  his  studies  this  way,  even  so 
much  as  to  judge  whether  particular  prophecies  have 
been  throughout  completely  fulfilled  ;  yet  he  may  see,  in 
general,  that  they  have  been  fulfilled  to  such  a  degree, 
as,  upon  very  good  ground,  to  be  convinced  of  foresight 
more  than  human  in  such  prophecies,  and  of  such 
events  being  intended  by  them.  For  the  same  reason 
also,  though,  by  means  of  the  deficiencies  in  civil  history, 
and  the  different  accounts  of  historians,  the  most  learned 
should  not  be  able  to  make  out  to  satisfaction,  that  such 
parts  of  the  prophetic  history  have  been  minutely  and 
throughout  fulfilled ;  yet  a  very  strong  proof  of  foresight 
may  arise,  from  that  general  completion  of  them,  which 
is  made  out :  as  much  proof  of  foresight,  perhaps,  as  the 
giver  of  prophecy  intended  should  ever  be  afforded  by 
such  parts  of  prophecy. 

2.  A  long  series  of  prophecy  being  applicable  to  such 
and  such  events,  is  itself  a  proof  that  it  was  intended 
of  them  :  as  the  rules  by  which  we  naturally  judge  and 
determine,  in  common  cases  parallel  to  this,  will  show. 
This  observation  I  make  in  answer  to  the  common 
objection  against  the  application  of  the  prophecies,  that, 
considering  each  of  them  distinctly  by  itself,  it  does  not 
at  all  appear,  that  they  were  intended  of  those  particular 
events,  to  which  they  are  applied  by  Christians ;  and 
therefore  it  is  to  be  supposed,  that,  if  they  meant  any 
thing,  they  were  intended  of  other  events  unknown  to 
us,  and  not  of  these  at  all. 

Now  there  are  two  kinds  of  writing,  which  bear  a 
great  resemblance  to  prophecy,  with  respect  to  the  mat- 
ter before  us  :  the  mythological,  and  the  satirical,  where 
the  satire  is,  to  a  certain  drgn  e,  concealed.  And  a  man 
might  be  assured,  that  he  understood  what  an  author 
intended  by  a  fable  or  parable  related  without  any  a|)|)li- 
cation  or  moral,  merely  from  seeing  it  to  be  easily  c  apa- 
ble  of  such  application,  and  th.at  such  a  moral  might 
naturally  be  deduced  from  it.    And  he  might  be  fully 


256  OF  THE  PARTICULAR  EVIDENCE  [Pabt  II. 

assured,  that  such  persons  and  events  were  intended 
in  a  satirical  writing,  merely  from  its  being  applicable 
to  them.  And,  agreeable  to  the  last  observation,  he 
might  be  in  a  good  measure  satisfied  of  it,  though  he 
were  not  enough  informed  in  affairs,  or  in  the  story 
of  such  persons  to  understand  half  the  satire.  For, 
his  satisfaction,  that  he  understood  the  meaning,  the 
intended  meaning,  of  these  writings,  would  be  greater 
or  less  in  proportion  as  he  saw  the  general  turn  of 
them  to  be  capable  of  such  application;  and  in  propor- 
tion to  the  number  of  particular  things  capable  of  it. 
And  thus,  if  a  long  series  of  prophecy  is  applicable  to 
the  present  state  of  the  church,  and  to  the  political  situ- 
ations of  the  kingdoms  of  the  world,  some  thousand 
years  after  these  prophecies  were  delivered,  and  a  long 
series  of  prophecy  delivered  before  the  coming  of  Christ 
is  applicable  to  him  ;  these  things  are  in  themselves  a 
proof,  that  the  prophetic  history  was  intended  of  him, 
and  of  those  events:  in  proportion  as  the  general  turn 
of  it  is  capable  of  such  application,  and  to  the  number 
and  variety  of  particular  prophecies  capable  of  it.  And 
though,  in  all  just  way  of  consideration,  the  appearing 
completion  of  prophecies  is  to  be  allowed  to  be  thus 
explanatory  of,  and  to  determine,  their  meaning ;  yet  it 
is  to  be  remembered  further,  that  the  ancient  Jews  ap- 
plied the  prophecies  to  a  Messiah  before  his  coming,  in 
much  the  same  manner  as  Christians  do  now :  and  that 
the  primitive  Christians  interpreted  the  prophecies  re- 
specting the  state  of  the  church  and  of  the  world  in  the 
last  ages,  in  the  sense  which  the  event  seems  to  confirm 
and  verify.  And  from  these  things  it  may  be  made 
appear : 

3.  That  the  showing  even  to  a  high  probability,  if 
that  could  be,  that  the  prophets  thought  of  some  other 
events,  in  such  and  such  predictions,  and  not  those  at 
all  which  Christians  allege  to  be  completions  of  those 
predictions  ;  or  that  such  and  such  prophecies  are  capa- 
ble of  being  applied  to  other  events  than  those,  to  which 
Christians  apply  them — that  this  would  not  confute  or 
destroy  the  force  of  the  argument  from  prophecy,  even 
with  regard  to  those  very  instances.    For,  observe  how 


Chap.  VII  ]  FOR  CHRISTIANITY.  257 

this  matter  really  is.    If  one  knew  such  a  person  to  be 
the  sole  author  of  such  a  book,  and  was  certainly  assured, 
or  satisfied  to  any  degree,  that  one  knew  the  whole  of 
what  he  intended  in  it;  one  should  be  assured  or  satis- 
fied to  such  degree,  that  one  knew  the  whole  meaning 
of  that  book:  for  the  meaning  of  a  book  is  nothing  but 
the  meaning  of  the  author.    But  if  one  knew  a  person 
to  have  compiled  a  book  out  of  memoirs,  which  he  re- 
ceived from  another,  of  vastly  superior  knowledge  in  the 
subject  of  it,  especially  if  it  were  a  book  full  of  great 
intricacies  and  difficulties;  it  would  in  no  wise  follow, 
that  one  knew  the  whole  meaning  of  the  book,  from 
knowing;  tlie  whole  meaning  of  the  compiler:  for  the 
original  memoirs,  i.  e.  the  author  of  them,  might  have, 
and  there  would  be  no  degree  of  presumption,  in  many 
cases,  against  supposing  him  to  have,  some  further 
meaning  than  the  compiler  saw.    To  say  then,  that  the 
Scriptures,  and  the  things  contained  in  them,  can  have 
no  other  or  further  meaning  than  those  persons  thought 
or  had,  who  first  recited  or  wrote  them,  is  evidently 
saying,  that  those  persons  were  the  original,  proper,  and 
sole  authors  of  those  books,  i.  e.  that  they  are  not  in- 
spired: which  is  absurd,  whilst  the  authority  of  these 
books  is  under  examination;  i.  e.  till  you  have  deter- 
mined thev  are  of  no  divine  authoritv  at  ail.    Till  this 
be  determined,  it  must  in  all  reason  be  supposed,  not 
indeed  that  they  have,  for  this  is  taking  for  granted  that 
they. are  inspired;  but  that  they  may  have,  some  further 
meaning  than  what  the  compilers  saw  or  understood. 
And,  upon  this  supposition,  it  is  supposable  also,  that 
this  further  meaning  may  be  fulfilled.  Now  events  corre- 
sponding to  prophecies,  interpreted  in  a  difterent  meaning 
from  that,  in  which  the  prophets  are  supposed  to  have 
understood  them ;  this  aflbrds,  in  a  manner,  the  same  proof, 
that  this  different  sense  was  originally  intended,  as  it 
would  have  afforded,  if  the  prophets  had  not  understood 
their  predictions  in  the  sense  it  is  supposed  they  did: 
because  there  is  no  presumption  of  their  sense  of  them 
being  the  whole  sense  of  them.    And  it  has  been  al- 
ready shown,  tliat  the  apparent  completions  of  j>rophecy 

must  be  allowed  to  be  explanatorv  of  its  meaning.  So 

It 


258 


OF  THE  PARTICULAR  EVIDENCE 


[Part  II. 


that  the  question  is,  whether  a  series  of  prophecy  has 
been  fulfilled,  in  a  natural  or  proper,  i,  e.  in  any  real 
sense  of  the  words  of  it.  For  such  completion  is  equally 
a  proof  of  foresight  more  than  human,  whether  the  pro- 
phets are,  or  are  not,  supposed  to  have  understood  it  in 
a  different  sense.  I  say,  supposed:  for,  though  I  think 
it  clear,  that  the  prophets  did  not  understand  the  full 
meaning  of  their  predictions ;  it  is  another  question,  how 
far  they  thought  they  did,  and  in  what  sense  they  under- 
stood them. 

Hence  may  be  seen,  to  how  little  purpose  those  per- 
sons busy  themselves,  who  endeavour  to  prove,  that  the 
prophetic  history  is  apphcable  to  events  of  the  age  in 
which  it  was  written,  or  of  ages  before  it.  Indeed  to 
have  proved  this,  before  there  was  any  appearance  of  a 
further  completion  of  it,  might  have  answered  some  pur- 
pose; for  it  might 'have  prevented  the  expectation  of  any 
such  further  completion.  Thus  could  Porphyry  have 
shown,  that  some  principal  parts  of  the  book  of  Daniel, 
for  instance,  the  seventh  verse  of  the  seventh  chapter, 
which  the  Christians  interpreted  of  the  latter  ages,  was 
applicable  to  events,  which  happened  before  or  about  the 
age  of  Antiochus  Epiphanes;  this  might  have  prevented 
them  from  expecting  any  further  completion  of  it.  And, 
unless  there  was  then,  as  I  think  there  must  have  been, 
external  evidence  concerning  that  book,  more  than  is 
come  down  to  us;  such  a  discovery  might  have  been  a 
stumbling-block  in  the  wav  of  Christianitv  itself:  con- 
sidering  the  authority  which  our  Saviour  has  given  to 
the  book  of  Daniel,  and  how  much  the  general  scheme 
of  Christianity  presupposes  the  truth  of  it.  But  even 
this  discovery,  had  there  been  any  such,*  would  be  of 
very  little  weight  with  reasonable  men  now ;  if  this 
passage,  thus  applicable  to  events  before  the  age  of 
Porphyry,  appears  to  be  applicable  also  to  events,  which 
succeeded  the  dissolution  of  the  Roman  empire.  I 

*  It  appears  that  Porphyry  (I'ul  not.liiiic-  worLli  nn'ntioiiliij];-  in  (his  way.  For  Jerome 
on  th«'  placf  says  :  Duns  posieriorrs  I.estiiis — in  into  Mncpilonitni  regno  ponit.  And 
as  to  tlx-  ten  kin^s  ;  Den  ui  regrs  enitnierut  qui  fiiervnt  sa  vissinii :  ipsosi/ue  rrges 
non  uniiis  ponit  regni.  verhi  gratin,  A.ftreifunire ,  St/rice,  ^siie,  et  .Kgt/pfi ;  sed  dc 
divcaif  'f-egnis  unnm  eJjTicit  renuni  ordinem.  And  in  this  way  of  interpretation,  any 
tliJiig  may  he  in;i<Je  of  any  thing. 


CuAV.  VII.]  FOR  CHRISTIANITY.  259 

mention  this,  not  at  all  as  intending  to  insinuate,  that 
the  division  of  this  empire  into  ten  parts,  for  it  plainly 
was  divided  into  about  that  number,  were,  alone  and  by 
itself,  of  any  moment  in  verifying  the  prophetic  history: 
but  only  as  an  example  of  the  thing  I  am  speaking  of. 
And  thus  upon  the  whole,  the.  matter  of  inquiry  evidently 
must  be,  as  above  put.  Whether  the  prophecies  are  ap- 
plicable to  Christ,  and  to  the  present  state  of  the  world, 
and  of  the  church;  a])plicable  in  such  a  degree,  as  to  im- 
ply foresight:  not  whether  they  are  capable  of  any  other 
application;  though  I  know  no  pretence  for  saying  the 
general  turn  of  them  is  capable  of  any  other. 

These  observations  are,  I  think,  just;  and  the  evidence 
referred  to  in  them  real:  though  there  may  be  people 
who  will  not  accept  of  such  imperfect  im formation  from 
Scripture.  Some  too  have  not  integrity  and  regard 
enough  to  truth,  to  attend  to  evidence,  which  keeps  the 
mind  in  doubt,  perhaps  perplexity,  and  which  is  much 
of  a  different  sort  from  what  they  expected.  And  it 
yjlainly  requires  a  degree  of  modesty  and  fairness,  be- 
yond what  every  one  has,  for  a  man  to  say,  not  to  the 
world,  but  to  himself,  that  there  is  a  real  appearance  of 
somewhat  of  great  weight  in  this  matter,  though  he  is 
not  able  thoroughly  to  satisfy  himself  about  it ;  but  it 
shall  have  its  influence  upon  him,  in  proportion  to  its 
appearing  reality  and  weight.  It  is  much  more  easy, 
and  more  falls  in  with  the  negligence,  presumption,  and 
wilfulness  of  the  generality,  to  determine  at  once,  with  a 
decisive  air.  There  is  nothing  in  it.  The  prejudices 
arising  from  that  absolute  contcmjit  and  scorn,  with 
which  this  evidence  is  treated  in  the  world,  I  do  not 
mention.  For  what  indeed  can  be  said  to  persons,  who 
are  weak  enough  in  their  understandings  to  think  this 
any  presumption  against  it;  or,  if  they  do  not,  are  yet 
weak  enough  in  their  temper  to  be  influenced  by  such 
prejudices,  upon  such  a  sul)ject? 

1  shall  now,  Sccondh/j  endeavour  to  give  some  account 
of  the  general  arguiiient  for  the  truth  of  Christianity, 
consisting  both  of  th  •  direct  and  circumstantial  evidence 
considered  as  making  up  one  argument.    Indeed  to  state 
and  examine  this  argument  fully,  would  be  a  work  much 


260  OF  THE  PARTICULAR  EVIDENCE  [Part  II, 

beyond  the  compass  of  this  wliole  treatise;  nor  is  so 
much  as  a  proper  abridgment  of  it  to  be  expected  here. 
Yet  the  present  subject  requires  to  have  some  brief  ac- 
count of  it  given.  For  it  is  the  kind  of  evidence,  upon 
which  most  questions  of  difficulty,  in  common  practice, 
are  determined:  evidence  arising  from  various  coinci- 
dences, which  support  and  confirm  each  other,  and  in 
this  manner  prove,  with  more  or  less  certainty,  the 
point  under  consideration.  And  I  choose  to  do  it  also: 
First,  because  it  seems  to  be  of  the  greatest  importance, 
and  not  duly  attended  to  by  every  one,  that  the  proof  of 
revelation  is,  not  some  direct  and  express  things  only, 
but  a  great  variety  of  circumstantial  things  also;  and  that 
though  each  of  these  direct  and  circumstantial  things  is 
indeed  to  be  considered  separately,  yet  they  are  after- 
wards to  be  joined  together;  for  that  the  proper  force  of 
the  evidence  consists  in  the  result  of  those  several  things, 
considered  in  their  respects  to  each  other,  and  united 
into  one  view :  and  in  the  next  place,  because  it  seems 
to  me,  that  the  matters  of  fact  here  set  down,  which  are 
acknowledged  by  unbelievers,  must  be  acknowledged  by 
them  also  to  contain  toofether  a  dep:ree  of  evidence  of 
great  weight,  if  they  could  be  brought  to  lay  these  several 
things  before  themselves  distinctly,  and  then  with  atten- 
tion consider  them  together ;  instead  of  that  cursory 
thought  of  them,  to  which  we  are  familiarized.  For 
being  familiarized  to  the  cursory  thought  of  things  as 
really  hinders  the  weight  of  them  from  being  seen,  as 
from,  having  its  due  influence  upon  practice. 

The  thing  asserted,  and  the  truth  of  which  is  to  be  in- 
quired into,  is  this:  That  over  and  above  our  reason  and 
affections,  which  God  has  given  us  for  the  information  of 
our  judgment  and  the  conduct  of  our  lives,  he  has  also, 
by  external  revelation,  given  us  an  account  of  himself 
and  his  moral  government  over  the  world,  implying  a 
future  state  of  rewards  and  punishments;  i.e.  hath  re- 
vealed the  system  of  natural  religion:  for  natural  religion 
may  be  externally*  revealed  by  God,  as  the  ignorant  may 
be  taught  it  by  mankind,  their  fellow  creatures — that 
God,  I  say,  has  given  us  the  evidence  of  revelation,  as 

*P.  IGC.  &c. 


Chap.  VII.]  FOR  CHRISTIANITY.  261 

well  as  the  evidence  of  reason,  to  ascertain  this  moral 
system;  together  with  an  accomit  of  a  particular  dispen- 
sation of  Providence,  which  reason  could  no  way  have 
discovered,  and  a  particular  institution  of  rehgion  founded 
on  it,  for  the  recovery  of  mankind  out  of  their  present 
wretched  condition,  and  raising  them  to  the  perfection 
and  final  happiness  of  their  nature. 

This  revelation,  whether  real  or  supposed,  may  be 
considered  as  wholly  historical.  For  prophecy  is  nothing 
but  the  history  of  events  before  they  come  to  pass;  doc- 
trines also  are  matters  of  fact;  and  precepts  come  under 
the  same  notion.  And  the  general  design  of  Scripture, 
w^hich  contains  in  it  this  revelation,  thus  considered  as 
historical,  may  be  said  to  be,  to  give  us  an  account  of 
the  world,  in  this  one  single  view,  as  God's  world:  by 
which  it  appears  essentially  distinguished  from  all  other 
books,  so  far  as  I  have  found,  except  such  as  are  copied 
from  it.  It  begins  with  an  account  of  God's  creation  of 
the  world,  in  order  to  ascertain,  and  distinguish  from  all 
others,  who  is  the  object  of  our  w^orship,  by  what  he  has 
done:  in  order  to  ascertain,  who  he  is,  concerninoj  whose 
providence,  commands,  promises,  and  threatenings,  this 
sacred  book,  all  along,  treats;  the  Maker  and  Proprietor 
of  the  world,  he  whose  creatures  we  are,  the  God  of 
Nature:  in  order  likewise  to  distinguish  him  from  the 
idols  of  the  nations,  which  are  either  imaginary  beings, 
i.e.  no  beings  at  all;  or  else  part  of  that  creation,  the 
historical  relation  of  which  is  here  given.  And  St  John, 
not  improbably,  with  an  eye  to  this  Mosaic  account  of 
the  creation,  begins  his  Gospel  with  an  account  of  our 
Saviour's  pre-existence,  and  that  all  things  xrcrc  made  b\j 
him;  and  without  him  teas  not  any  thing  made  that  was 
made  :*  agreeably  to  the  doctrine  of  St  Paul,  that  God 
created  all  things  by  Jesus  Christ.\  This  being  premised, 
the  Scrij)ture,  taken  together,  seems  to  profess  to  coa- 
tain  a  kind  of  an  abridgment  of  the  history  of  the  world, 
in  the  view  just  now  mentioned:  that  is,  a  general  ac- 
count of  the  condition  of  rehgion  and  its  professors,  dur- 
ing the  continuance  of  that  apostasy  from  God,  and  state 
of  wickedness,  which  it  every  where  su|ij)()ses  the  world 
i 

*  .Tc.l.n  i.  3.  +  Fi  ll.  iii.  9. 


262  OF  THE  PARTICULAR  EVIDENCE  [Part  IT. 

to  lie  in.  And  this  account  of  the  state  of  rehgion  carries 
with  it  some  brief  account  of  the  pohtical  state  of  things, 
as  rehgion  is  aft'ected  by  it.  Revelation  indeed  considers 
the  common  affairs  of  this  world,  and  what  is  going  on 
in  it,  as  a  mere  scene  of  distraction;  and  cannot  be  sup- 
posed to  concern  itself  with  foretelling  at  what  time  Rome, 
or  Babylon,  or  Greece,  or  any  particular  place,  should  be 
the  most  conspicuous  seat  of  that  tyranny  and  dissolute- 
ness, which  all  places  equally  aspire  to  be ;  cannot,  I 
say,  be  supposed  to  give  any  account  of  this  wild  scene 
for  its  own  sake.  But  it  seems  to  contain  some  very 
general  account  of  the  chief  governments  of  the  world, 
as  the  general  state  of  religion  has  been,  is,  or  shall  be, 
affected  by  them,  from  the  first  transgression,  and  during 
the  whole  inttrval  of  the  world's  continuing  in  its  pre- 
sent state,  to  a  certain  future  period,  spoken  of  both  in 
the  Old  and  New  Testament,  very  distinctly,  and  in 
great  variety  of  expression:  The  times  of  the  restitution  of 
all  things  :*  when  the  mystery  of  God  shall  be  finished^  as 
he  hath  declared  to  his  servants  the  prophets  :\  when  the 
God  of  heaven  shall  set  up  a  kingdom^  which  shall  never  be 
destroyed :  and  the  kingdom  shall  not  be  left  to  other 
people^X  as  it  is  represented  to  be  during  this  apostasy,  but 
judgment  shall  be  given  to  the  saints, I  and  they  shall 
reign  :\\  and  the  kingdom  and  dominion,  and  the  greatness 
of  the  kingdom  under  the  whole  heaven,  shall  be  given  to 
the  people  of  the  saints  of  the  Most  High.% 

Upon  this  general  view  of  the  Scripture,  I  would  re- 
mark, how  great  a  length  of  time  the  whole  relation 
takes  up,  near  six  thousand  years  of  which  are  past;  and 
how  great  a  variety  of  things  it  treats  of ;  the  natural  and 
moral  system  or  history  of  the  world,  including  the  time 
when  it  was  formed,  all  contained  in  the  very  first  book, 
and  evidently  written  in  a  rude  and  unlearned  age;  and 
in  subsequent  books,  the  various  common  and  prophetic 
history,  and  the  particular  dispensation  of  Christianity. 
Now  all  this  together  ^ives  the  largest  scope  for  criticism  ; 
and  for  confutation  of  what  is  capable  of  being  confuted, 
either  from  reason,  or  from  common  history,  or  from  any 


*Actsiil.  21.       ■]  Wcy   x.  7.  t  Dan.  ii.  44.. 

fj  Dan.  vii.  22.      j  Rev.  xi.  17,  18.  xx.  C.     ^  Dan.  vii.  27. 


Chap.  VII.j 


FOR  CHRISTIANITY. 


263 


inconsistence  in  its  several  parts.  And  it  is  a  thing  which 
deserves,  I  think,  to  be  mentioned,  that  whereas  some 
imagine  the  supposed  doubtfulness  of  the  evidence  for 
revelation  implies  a  positive  argument  that  it  is  not  true; 
it  appears,  on  the  contrary,  to  imply  a  positive  argu- 
ment that  it  is  true.  For,  could  any  ommon  relation  of 
such  antiquity,  extent,  and  variety  (for  in  these  things 
the  stress  of  what  I  am  now  observing  hes),  be  proposed 
to  the  examination  of  the  world :  that  it  could  not,  in 
an  age  of  knowledge  and  liberty,  be  confuted,  or  shown 
to  have  nothing  in  it,  to  the  satisfaction  of  reasonable 
men;  this  would  be  thought  a  strong  presumptive  proof 
of  its  truth.  And  indeed  it  must  be  a  proof  of  it,  just 
in  proportion  to  the  probability,  that  if  it  w^ere  false,  it 
might  be  shown  to  be  so :  and  this,  I  think,  is  scarce 
pretended  to  be  shown,  but  upon  principles  and  in  ways 
of  arguing,  which  have  been  clearly  obviated.^  Nor 
does  it  at  all  appear,  that  any  set  of  men,  who  believe 
natural  religion,  are  of  the  opinion,  that  Christianity  has 
been  thus  confuted.    Bat  to  proceed: 

Together  with  the  moral  system  of  the  world,  the  Old 
Testament  contains  a  chronological  account  of  the  be- 
ginning of  it,  and  from  thence,  an  unbroken  genealogy 
of  mankind  for  many  ages  before  common  history  be- 
gins ;  and  carried  on  as  much  farther  as  to  make  up  a 
continued  thread  of  history  of  the  length  of  between  three 
and  four  thousand  years.  It  contains  an  account  of 
God's  making  a  covenant  with  a  particular  nation,  that 
they  should  be  his  people,  and  he  would  be  their  God, 
in  a  peculiar  sense;  of  his  often  interposing  miraculously 
in  their  affairs;  giving  them  the  promise,  and,  long  after, 
the  possession,  of  a  particular  country;  assuring  them  of 
the  greatest  national  prosperity  in  it,  if  they  would  wor- 
ship him,  in  opposition  to  the  idols  which  the  rest  of  the 
world  worshipped,  and  obey  his  commands;  and  tlinat- 
ening  them  with  unexampled  punisliments  if  they  dis- 
obeyed him,  and  fell  into  the  g(  neral  idolatrv  :  insonuicli 
that  this  one  nation  should  continue  to  be  the  observa- 
tion and  the  wonder  of  all  the  world.  It  declares  parti- 
cularly, that  God  icuutd  scatter  them  amour/  all  people^ 

*  C  h.  ii.  iii.  &c. 


264  OF  THE  PARTICULAR  EVIDENCE  [Part  II. 

froTii  one  end  of  the  earth  unto  the  other  ;  but  that  when 
they  should  return  unto  the  Lord  their  God^  he  would  have 
compassion  upon  them,  and  gather  them  from  all  the  nations, 
10  hit  her  he  had  scattered  them  :  that  Israel  should  be  saved 
in  the  Lord,  with  an  everlasting  salvation;  and  not  be 
('shamed  or  confounded  world  without  end.    And  as  some 
of  these  promises  are  conditional,  others  are  as  absolute, 
as  any  thing  can  be  expressed  :  that  the  time  should  come, 
when  the  people  should  be  all  righteous,  and  inherit  the 
land  for  ever:  that  though  God  woidd  make  a  full  end  of 
all  nations  whither  he  had  scattered  them,  yet  woidd  he  not 
make  afidl  end  of  them:  that  he  would  bring  again  the 
captivity  of  his  people  Israel,  and  plant  them  upon  their 
land,  and  they  should  be  no  more  pulled  up  out  of  their  ■ 
land:  that  the  seed  of  Israel  should  not  cease  from  being  a 
nation  forever*  It  foretells,  that  God  would  raise  them 
up  a  particular  person,  in  whom  all  his  promises  should' 
finally  be  fulfilled ;    the  Messiah,  who  should  be,  in  a 
high  and  eminent  sense,  their  anointed  Prince  and 
Saviour.    This  was  foretold  in  such  a  manner,  as  raised 
a  general  expectation  of  such  a  person  in  the  nation,  as 
appears  from  the  New  Testament,  and  is  an  acknow- 
ledged fact;  an  expectation  of  his  coming  at  such  a  par- 
ticular time,  before  any  one  appeared  claiming  to  be  that 
person,  and  when  there  was  no  ground  for  such  an  ex- 
pectation, but  from  the  prophecies:  which  expectation, 
therefore,  must  in  all  reason  be  presumed  to  be  explana- 
tory of  those  prophecies,  if  there  were  any  doubt  about 
their  meaning.    It  seems  moreover  to  foretell,  that  this 
person  should  be  rejected  by  that  nation,  to  whom  he 
had  been  so  long  promised,  and  though  he  was  so  much 
desired  by  them.t    And  it  expressly  foretells,  that  he 
should  be  the  Saviour  of  the  Gentiles;  and  even  that 
the  completion  of  the  scheme  contained  in  this  book,  and'^'• 
then  begun,  and  in  its  progress,  should  be  somewhat  so 
great,  that  in  comparison  with  it,  the  restoration  of  the 
Jews  alone  would  be  but  of  small  account.     It  is  a  light 
thing  that  thou  shouldest  be  my  servant  to  liaise  up  the 

*  Dfwi.  xxviii.  64.  XXX.  2,  3.  Ts.  xlv.  17.  Ix.  21.  Ji  r.  xxx.  11.  xlvi.  28.  AinoS" 
ix.  11,  15.    J«  r.  xxxi.  .'Ui. 

•f-  is.  viii.  It,  Ij.  xlix.  .0.  cli.  liii.    Mai.  i.  10,  11.  and  ch.  iii. 


Chap.  VII.]  FOR  CHRISTIANITY.  265 

tribes  of  Jacob,  and  to  restore  the  preserved  of  Israel :  I 
will  also  give  thee  for  a  light  to  the  Gentiles,  that  thou 
mayest  be  for  salvation  unto  the  end  of  the  earth.  And,  In 
the  last  days,  the  mountain  of  the  Lord's  house  shall  be 
established  in  the  top  of  the  mountains,  and  shall  be  exalted 
above  the  hills  ;  and  all  nations  shall  flow  into  it — for  out 
of  Zion  shall  go  forth  the  law,  and  the  word  .of  the  Lord 
from  Jerusalem.  And  he  shall  judge  among  the  nations — 
and  the  Lord  alone  shall  be  exalted  in  that  day,  and  the 
idols  he  shall  utterly  abolish*  The  Scripture  further  con- 
tains an  account,  that  at  the  time  the  Messiah  was  ex- 
pected, a  person  rose  up  in  this  nation,  claiming  to  be 
that  Messiah,  to  be  the  person  whom  all  the  prophecies 
referred  to,  and  in  whom  they  should  centre :  that  he 
spent  some  years  in  a  continued  course  of  miraculous^ 
works  ;  and  endued  his  immediate  disciples  and  followers 
with  a  power  of  doing  the  same,  as  a  proof  of  the  truth 
of  that  religion,  which  he  commissioned  them  to  publish  .-^ 
that,  invested  with  this  authority  and  power,  they  made 
numerous  converts  in  the  remotest  countries,  and  settled 
and  established  his  religion  in  the  world ;  to  the  end  of 
which  the  vScripture  professes  to  give  a  prophetic  account 
of  the  state  of  this  religion  amongst  mankind. 

Let  us  now  suppose  a  person  utterly  ignorant  of  his- 
tory, to  have  all  this  related  to  him  out  of  the  Scripture. 
Or  suppose  such  a  one,  having  the  Scripture  put  into  his 
hands,  to  remark  these  tilings  in  it,  not  knowing  but  that 
the  whole,  even  its  civil  history,  as  well  as  the  other 
parts  of  it,  might  be,  from  beginning  to  end,  an  entire 
invention;  and  to  ask,  \yhat  truth  was  in  it,  and  whether 
the  revelation  here  related  was  real,  or  a  fiction?  And, 
instead  of  a  direct  answer,  suppose  him,  all  at  once,  to 
be  told  the  following  confessed  facts;  and  then  to  unite 
them  into  one  view. 

Let  him  first  be  told,  in  how  grc  at  a  d(  gree  the  pro- 
fession and  estabhshment  of  natural  religion,  the  bcHef 
that  there  is  one  God  to  be  worshipped,  that  virtue  is  his 
law,  and  that  mankind  shall  be  rewarded  and  punished 

*  Is.  xlix.  r.  r.hnp.  ii.  Hiap.  \  .  rliiip.  Ivi.  7.    Mai.  i.  11.    To  wliirli  must  ho 

lwM»'(l,  tin*  oih«  r  pntpludcs  of  tlu-  likr  kiiul,  s«'v»  iiil  in  iIm*  N«  \v 'I  «  stHiiu  nl,  amV 

vrry  iiuiiiy  in  tli,.  ()U|;  wliicli  <  i,Ih-  wl.ui  shall  be  ihv  coinplflioii  of  Uie  r«vfaied 
plan  ol  I'roviilnici". 


266  OF  THE  PARTICULAR  EVIDENCE  [Part  II- 

hereafter,  as  they  obey  and  disobey  it  here ;  in  how  very 
great  a  degree,  I  say,  the  profession  and  estabhshment 
of  this  moral  system  in  the  world  is  owing  to  the  revela- 
tion, whether  real  or  supposed,  contained  in  this  book  : 
the  establishment  of  this  moral  system,  even  in  those 
countries  which  do  not  acknowledge  the  proper  autho- 
rity of  the  Scripture.*  Let  him  be  told  also,  what  num- 
ber of  nations  do  acknowledge  its  proper  authority.  Let 
him  then  take  in  the  consideration,  of  what  importance 
religion  is  to  mankind.  And  upon  these  things  he  might, 
I  think,  truly  observe,  that  this  supposed  revelation's 
obtaining  and  being  received  in  the  world,  with  all  the 
circumstances  and  effects  of  it,  considered  together  as 
one  event,  is  the  most  conspicuous  and  important  event 
in  the  history  of  mankind :  that  a  book  of  this  nature, 
and  thus  promulged  and  recommended  to  our  considera- 
tion, demands,  as  if  by  a  voice  from  heaven,  to  have  its 
claims  most  seriously  examined  into:  and  that,  before 
such  examination,  to  treat  it  with  any  kind  of  scoffing 
and  ridicule,  is  an  offence  against  natural  piety.  But 
it  is  to  be  remembered,  that  how  much  soever  the  esta- 
blishment of  natural  religion  in  the  world  is  owing  to  the 
Scripture  revelation,  this  does  not  destroy  the  proof  of 
religion  from  reason,  any  more  than  the  proof  of  Euclid's 
Elements  is  destroyed,  by  a  man's  knowing  or  thinking, 
that  he  should  never  have  seen  the  truth  of  the  several 
propositions  contained  in  it,  nor  had  those  propositions 
come  into  his  thoughts,  but  for  that  mathematician. 

Let  such  a  person  as  we  are  speaking  of  be,  in  the 
next  place,  informed  of  the  acknowledged  antiquity  of 
the  first  parts  of  this  book  ;  and  that  its  chronology,  its 
account  of  the  time  when  the  earth,  and  the  several  parts 
of  it,  were  first  peopled  with  human  creatures,  is  no  way 
contradicted,  but  is  really  confirmed,  by  the  -natural  and 
civil  history  of  the  world,  collected  from  common  histo- 
rians, from  the  state  of  the  earth,  and  from  the  late  in- 
vention of  arts  and  sciences.  And  as  the  Scripture  con- 
tains an  unbroken  thread  of  common  and  civil  history, 
from  the  cn  ation  to  the  captivity,  for  between  three  and 
four  thousand  years ;  let  the  person  we  are  speaking  of 


♦  P 


^^.^P.yil.T  FOR  CHRISTIANITY.  267 

be  told,  in  the  next  place,  that  this  geneml  history,  as  it 
is  not  contradicted,  but  ts  confirmed  by  profane  history 
as  much  as  there  would  be  reason  to  expect,  upon  sup- 
position of  its  truth ;  so  there  is  nothing  in  the  whole 
history  itself,  to  give  any  reasonable  ground  of  suspicion 
of  its  not  being,  in  the  general,  a  faithful  and  hterally 
true  genealogy  of  men,  and  series  of  things.  I  speak 
here  only  of  the  common  Scripture-history,  or  of  the 
course  of  ordinary  events  related  in  it,  as  distinguished 
from  miracles,  and  from  the  prophetic  history.  In  all 
the  Scripture-narrations  of  this  kind,  following  events 
arise  out  of  foregoing  ones,  as  in  all  other  histories. 
There  appears  nothing  related  as  done  in  any  age,  not 
conformable  to  the  manners  of  that  age  :  nothing  in  the 
account  of  a  succeeding  age,  which,  one  would  say,  could 
not  be  true,  or  was  improbable,  from  the  account  of 
things  in  the  preceding  one.  There  is  nothing  in  the 
characters,  which  would  raise  a  thought  of  their  being 
feigned ;  but  all  the  internal  marks  imaginable  of  their 
being  real.  It  is  to  be  added  also,  that  mere  genealogies, 
bare  narratives  of  the  number  of  years,  which  persons 
called  by  such  and  such  names  lived,  do  not  carry  the 
face  of  fiction;  perhaps  do  carry  some  presumption  of 
veracity  :  and  all  unadorned  narratives,  which  have  noth- 
ing to  surprise,  may  be  thouglit  to  carry  somewhat  of  the 
like  presumption  too.  And  the  domestic  and  the  politi- 
cal history  is  plainly  credible.  There  may  be  incidents 
in  Scripture,  which,  taken  alone  in  the  naked  way  they 
are  told,  may  appear  strange;  especially  to  persons  of 
other  manners,  temper,  education  :  but  there  are  also 
incidents  of  undoubted  truth,  in  many  or  most  persons' 
lives,  which,  in  the  same  circumstances,  would  appear 
to  the  full  as  stranqe.  There  may  be  mistakes  of  tran- 
scribers, there  may  be  other  real  or  seeming  mistakes, 
not  easy  to  be  particularly  accounted  for:  but  there  are 
certainly  no  more  things  of  this  kind  in  the  Scripture, 
than  what  were  to  have  been  expected  in  books  of  such 
antiquity;  and  nothing,  in  any  wise,  suflicicnt  to  discredit 
the  general  narrative.  No^^',  tliat  a  history,  claiming  to 
commf  ncc  from  the  creation,  and  exteiuhnij;  in  one  con- 
tinued series,  through  so  iireal  a  length  of  time,  and 


268  OF  THE  PARTICULAR  EVIDENCE  [Part  IT. 

variety  of  events,  should  have  such  appearances  of  reahty 
and  truth  in  its  whole  contextiire,  is  surely  a  very  re- 
markable circumstance  in  its  favour.  And  as  all  this  is 
applicable  to  the  common  history  of  the  New  Testament, 
so  there  is  a  further  credibility,  and  a  very  high  one, 
given  to  it  by  profane  authors :  many  of  these  writing  ot 
the  same  times,  and  confirming  the  truth  of  customs  and 
events,  which  are  incidentally  as  well  as  more  purposely 
mentioned  in  it.  And  this  credibility  of  the  common 
Scripture-history,  gives  some  credibility  to  its  miracu- 
lous history:  especially  as  this  is  interwoven  with  the 
common,  so  as  that  they  imply  each  other,  and  both  to- 
gether make  up  one  relation. 

Let  it  then  be  more  particularly  observed  to  this  per- 
son, that  it  is  an  acknowledged  matter  of  fact,  which  is 
indeed  implied  in  the  foregoing  observation,  that  there 
was  such  a  nation  as  the  Jews,  of  the  greatest  antiquity, 
whose  government  and  general  polity  was  founded  on 
the  law,  here  related  to  be  given  them  by  Moses  as  from 
heaven  :  that  natural  religion,  though  with  rites  additional 
yet  no  way  contrary  to  it,  was  their  established  religion, 
which  cannot  be  said  of  the  Gentile  world:  and  that 
their  very  being  as  a  nation,  depended  upon  their  ac- 
knowledgment of  one  God,  the  God  of  the  universe.  For, 
suppose  in  their  captivity  in  Babylon,  they  had  gone  over 
to  the  religion  of  their  conquerors,  there  would  have  re- 
mained no  bond  of  union,  to  keep  them  a  distinct  people. 
And  whilst  they  were  under  their  own  kings,  in  their 
own  country,  a  total  apostasy  from  God  would  have 
been  the  dissolution  of  their  whole  government.  They 
in  such  a  sense  nationally  acknowledged  and  worshipped 
the  Maker  of  heaven  and  earth,  when  the  rest  of  the 
world  were  sunk  in  idolatry,  as  rendered  them,  in  fact, 
the  peculiar  people  of  God.  And  this  so  remarkable 
an  establishment  and  preservation  of  natural  religion 
amongst  them,  seems  to  add  some  pecuhar  credibihty  to 
the  historical  evidence  for  the  miracles  of  Moses  and 
the  Prophets:  because  these  miracles  are  a  full  satisfac- 
tory account  of  this  event,  which  plainly  wants  to  be 
accounted  for,  and  cannot  otherwise. 

Let  this  person,  supposed  wholly  ignorant  of  history. 


Chap.  VII.]  FOR  CHRISTIANITY.  269 

be  acquainted  further,  that  one  claiming  to  be  the  Mes- 
siah, of  Jewish  extraction,  rose  up  at  the  time  when  this 
nation,  from  the  prophecies  above  mentioned,  expected 
the  Messiah:  that  he  was  rejected,  as  it  seemed  to  have 
been  foretold  he  should,  by  the  body  of  the  people,  un- 
der the  direction  of  their  rulers:  that  in  the  course  of 
a  very  few  years,  he  was  believed  on  and  acknowledged 
as  the  promised  Messiah,  by  great  numbers  among  the 
Gentiles,  agreeably  to  the  prophecies  of  Scripture,  yet 
not  upon  the  evidence  of  prophecy,  but  of  miracles,*  of 
which  miracles  we  have  also  strong  historical  evidence ; 
(by  which  I  mean  here  no  more  than  must  be  acknow- 
ledged by  unbelievers  ;  for  let  pious  frauds  and  follies 
be  admitted  to  weaken,  it  is  absurd  to  say  they  destroy, 
our  evidence  of  miracles  wrought  in  proof  of  Chris- 
tianity:"^) that  this  religion  approving  itself  to  the  reason 
of  mankind,  and  carrying  its  own  evidence  with  it,  so 
far  as  reason  is  a  judge  of  its  system,  and  being  no  way 
contrary  to  reason  in  those  parts  of  it  which  require  to 
bv-  believed  upon  the  mere  authority  of  its  Author;  that 
this  religion,  I  say,  gradually  spread  and  supported  itself 
for  some  hundred  years,  not  only  without  any  assistance 
from  temporal  power,  but  under  constant  discourage- 
ments, and  often  the  bitterest  persecutions  from  it;  and 
then  became  the  religion  of  the  world:  that  in  the  mean 
time  the  Jewish  nation  and  government  were  destroyed 
in  a  very  remarkable  manner,  and  the  people  carried 
away  captive  and  dispersed  through  the  most  distant 
countries;  in  which  state  of  dispersion  they  have  re- 
mained fifteen  hundred  years:  and  that  tluy  remain  a 
numerous  people,  united  amongst  themselves,  and  dis- 
tinguished from  the  rest  of  the  world,  as  they  were  in 
the  days  of  Moses,  by  the  profession  of  his  law;  and 
every  where  looked  upon  in  a  manner,  which  one  scarce 
knows  how  distinctly  to  express,  but  in  the  words  of  the 
prophetic  account  of  it,  given  so  many  ages  before  it 
came  to  pass:  T/ioic  shall  become  an  astonishment^  a  pro- 
vert),  and  a  bij-word,  among  all  nations  whither  the  Lord 
shall  lead  thee.X 

llie  appearance  of  a  standing  miracle,  in  the  Jews 

•  P.  -^AG,  &c  t  p.  252,  &r.  X  Pent.  xxMii.  37, 


270  OF  THE  PARTICULAR  EVIDENCE  [Part  II. 

remaining  a  distinct  people  in  their  dispersion,  and  the 
confirmation  which  this  event  appears  to  give  to  the 
truth  of  revelation,  may  be  thought  to  be  answered,  by 
their  religion's  forbidding  them  intermarriages  with 
those  of  any  other,  and  prescribing  them  a  great  many 
peculiarities  in  their  food,  by  which  they  are  debarred 
from  the  means  of  incorporating  with  the  people  in 
whose  countries  they  live.  This  is  not,  I  think,  a  satis- 
factory account  of  that  which  it  pretends  to  account  for. 
But  what  does  it  pretend  to  account  for?  The  cor- 
respondence between  this  event  and  the  prophecies;  or 
the  coincidence  of  both,  with  a  long  dispensation  of 
Providence,  of  a  peculiar  nature,  towards  that  people 
formerly?  No.  It  is  only  the  event  itself,  which  is 
offered  to  be  thus  accounted  for;  which  single  event, 
taken  alone,  abstracted  from  all  such  correspondence 
and  coincidence,  perhaps  would  not  have  appeared  mira- 
culous: but  that  correspondence  and  coincidence  may 
be  so,  though  the  event  itself  be  supposed  not.  Thus 
the  concurrence  of  our  Saviour's  being  born  at  Beth- 
lehem, with  a  long  foregoing  series  of  prophecy  and 
other  coincidences,  is  doubtless  miraculous;  the  series 
of  prophecy,  and  other  coincidences,  and  the  event, 
being  admitted:  though  the  event  itself,  his  birth  at  that 
place,  appears  to  have  been  brought  about  in  a  natural 
way;  of  which,  however,  no  one  can  be  certain. 

And  as  several  of  these  events  seem,  in  some  degree 
expressly,  to  have  verified  the  prophetic  history  already; 
so  likewise  they  may  be  considered  further,  as  having  a 
peculiar  aspect  towards  the  full  completion  of  it;  as  af- 
fording some  presumption  that  the  whole  of  it  shall,  one 
time  or  other,  be  fulfilled.  Thus,  that  the  Jews  have 
been  so  wonderfully  preserved  in  their  long  and  wide 
dispersion ;  which  is  indeed  the  direct  fulfilling  of  some 
prophecies,  but  is  now  mentionc  d  only  as  looking  forward 
to  somewhat  yet  to  come:  that  natural  religion  came 
forth  from  Judca,  and  spread,  in  the  degree  it  has  done 
over  the  world,  before  lost  in  idolatry;  which,  together 
with  some  other  things,  have  distinguished  that  very 
])]ace,  in  like  manner  as  the  people  of  it  are  distinguished: 
that  this  great  change  of  religion  over  the  earth  was 


Chap.  VII.]  FOR  CHRISTIANITY.  271 

brought  about  under  the  profession  and  acknowledg- 
ment, that  Jesus  was  the  promised  Messiah:  things  of 
this  kind  naturally  turn  the  thoughts  of  serious  men 
towards  the  full  completion  of  the  prophetic  history, 
concerning  the  final  restoration  of  that  people ;  concern- 
ing the  estabhshment  of  the  everlasting  kingdom  among 
them,  the  kingdom  of  the  Messiah;  and  the  future  state 
of  the  world,  under  this  sacred  government.  Such  cir- 
cumstances and  events,  compared  with  these  prophecies, 
though  no  completions  of  them,  yet  w^ould  not,  I  think, 
be  spoken  of  as  nothing  in  the  argument,  by  a  person 
upon  his  first  being  informed  of  them.  They  fall  in 
w^ith  the  prophetic  history  of  things  still  future,  give  it 
some  additional  credibility,  have  the  appearance  of  being 
somewhat  in  order  to  the  full  completion  of  it. 

Indeed  it  requires  a  good  degree  of  knowledge,  and 
great  calmness  and  consideration,  to  be  able  to  judge 
thoroughly  of  the  evidence  for  the  truth  of  Christianity, 
from  that  part  of  the  prophetic  history  \vhich  relates  to 
the  situation  of  the  kingdoms  of  the  world,  and*  to  the 
state  of  the  church,  from  the  establishment  of  Christia- 
nity to  the  present  time.  But  it  appears  from  a  general 
view  of  it,  to  be  very  material.  And  those  persons  who 
have  thoroughly  examined  it,  and  some  of  them  were 
men  of  the  coolest  tempers,  greatest  capacities,  and 
least  liable  to  imputations  of  prejudice,  insist  upon  it  as 
determinately  conclusive. 

Suppose  now  a  person  quite  ignorant  of  history,  firs< 
to  recollect  the  passages  above  mentioned  out  of  Scrip- 
ture, without  knowing  but  that  the  whole  was  a  late  fic- 
tion, then  to  be  informed  of  the  correspondent  facts  now 
mentioned,  and  to  unite  them  all  into  one  view:  that  the 
profession  and  establishment  of  natural  religion  in  the 
world  is  greatly  owing,  in  dififiTcnt  ways,  to  this  book, 
and  the  supposed  revelation  which  it  contains;  that  it  is 
acknowledged  to  be  of  the  earliest  anti(]uity;  that  its 
chronology  and  common  history  are  entirely  credible; 
that  this  ancient  nation,  the  Jews,  of  whom  it  chiefly 
treats,  appear  to  have  been,  in  fact,  the  people  of  God, 
in  a  distinguished  sense;  that,  as  there  was  a  national 
expectation  amongst  tlu m,  raised  from  the  prophecies^ 


272  OF  THE  PARTICULAR  EVIDENCE  [Part  XL 

of  a  Messiah  to  appear  at  such  a  time,  so  one  at  this 
time  appeared  claiming  to  be  that  Messiah;  that  he  was 
rejected  by  this  nation,  but  received  by  the  Gentiles,  not 
upon  the  evidence  of  prophecy,  but  of  miracles;  that  the 
religion  he  taught  supported  itself  under  the  greatest 
difficulties,  gained  ground,  and  at  length  became  the 
religion  of  the  world;  that  in  the  mean  time  the  Jewish 
polity  was  utterly  destroyed,  and  the  nation  dispersed 
over  the  face  of  the  earth;  that  notwithstanding  this,  they 
have  remained  a  distinct  numerous  people  for  so  many 
centuries,  even  to  this  day;  which  not  only  appears  to  be 
the  express  completion  of  several  prophecies  concerning 
them,  but  also  renders  it,  as  one  may  speak,  a  visible 
and  easy  possibility  that  th.e  promises  made  to  them  as 
a  nation,  may  yet  be  fulfilled.  And  to  these  acknow- 
ledged truths,  let  the  person  we  have  been  supposing 
add,  as  I  think  he  ought,  whether  every  one  will  allow 
it  or  no,  the  obvious  appearances  which  there  are,  of  the 
vState  of  the  world,  in  other  respects  besides  what  relates 
to  the  Jews,  and  of  the  Christian  church,  having  so  long 
answered,  and  still  answeri;^  to  the  prophetic  history. 
Suppose,  I  say,  these  facts  set  over  against  the  things 
before  mentioned  out  of  the  Scripture,  and  seriously 
compared  with  them;  the  joint  view  of  both  together 
must,  I  think,  appear  of  very  great  weight  to  a  conside- 
rate reasonable  person:  of  nrrh  greater  indeed,  upon 
having  them  first  laid  befora  him,  than  is  easy  for  us, 
who  are  so  familiarized  to  t'.sem,  to  conceive,  without 
some  particular  attention  for  that  purpose. 

All  these  things,  and  the  s';iveral  particulars  contained 
under  them,  require  to  be  distinctly  and  most  thoroughly 
examined  into;  that  the  weight  of  each  may  be  judged  of, 
upon  such  examination,  and  such  conclusion  drawn  as 
results  from  their  united  force.  But  this  has  not  been 
attempted  here.  I  have  gone  no  further  than  to  show, 
that  the  general  imperfect  view  of  them  now  given,  the 
confessed  historical  evidence  for  miracles,  and  the  many 
obvious  appearing  completions  of  prophecy,  together 
with  the  collateral  things*  here  mentioned,  and  there  are 

*  All  tl»e  pnrtinuiar  lliinp^s  inrntioncd  in  lliis  (•lini)trr,  not  mliicihW'  to  the  head  o£ 
certain  minjcli'S,  or  deU-nninaLe  coniplcLioiis  of  prophecy.    See  p. 


CSAP.  VII.] 


FOR  CHRISTIANITY. 


273 


several  others  of  the  Hke  sort;  that  all  this  together, 
which,  being  fact,  must  be  acknowledged  by  unbelievers, 
amounts  to  real  evidence  of  somewhat  more  than  human 
in  this  matter:  evidence  much  more  important,  than  care- 
less men,  who  have  been  accustomed  only  to  transient 
and  partial  views  of  it,  can  imagine;  and  indeed  abun- 
dantly sufficient  to  act  upon.  And  these  things,  I  ap- 
prehend, must  be  acknowledged  by  unbehevers.  For 
though  they  may  say,  that  the  historical  evidence  of 
miracles  wrought  in  attestation  of  Christianity,  is  not 
sufficient  to  convince  them,  that  such  miracles  were 
really  wrought:  they  cannot  deny,  that  there  is  such 
historical  evidence,  it  being  a  known  matter  of  fact  that 
there  is.  They  may  say,  the  conformity  between  the 
prophecies  and  events  is  by  accident:  but  there  are 
many  instances  in  w^hich  such  conformity  itself  cannot 
be  denied.  They  may  say,  with  regard  to  such  kind  of 
collateral  things  as  those  above  mentioned,  that  any  odd 
accidental  events,  without  meaning,  will  have  a  meaning 
found  in  them  by  fanciful  people :  and  that  such  as  are 
fanciful  in  any  one  certain  w^ay,  will  make  out  a  thousand 
coincidences,  which  seem  to  favour  their  peculiar  follies 
Men,  I  say,  may  talk  thus:  but  no  one  who  is  serious, 
can  possibly  think  these  things  to  be  nothing,  if  he  con- 
siders the  importance  of  collateral  things,  and  even  of 
lesser  circumstances,  in  the  evidence  of  probability,  as 
distinguished  in  nature,  from  the  evidence  of  demonstra- 
tion. In  many  cases  indeed  it  seems  to  require  the 
truest  judgment,  to  determine  with  exactness  the  weight 
of  circumstantial  evidence:  but  it  is  very  often  alto- 
gether as  convincing,  as  that  which  is  the  most  express 
and  direct. 

This  general  view  of  tlie  evidence  for  Christianity, 
considered  as  making  one  argument,  may  also*  serve  to 
recommend  to  serious  pc^'sons,  to  set  down  every  thing 
which  they  think  may  be  of  any  real  weight  at  all  in 
proof  of  it,  and  particularly  the  many  seeming  comple- 
tions of  prophecy :  and  they  will  find,  that,  judiring  by 
the  nat.ural  rules,  by  which  we  judge  of  probable  evi- 
dence in  common  matters,  they  amount  to  a  much  higher 
degree  of  proof,  upon  such  a  joint  review,  than  could  be 

s 


274  OF  THE  PARTICULAR  EVIDENCE  [PartU. 

supposed  upon  considering  them  separately,  at  different 
times;  how  strong  soever  the  proof  might  before  appear 
to  them,  upon  such  separate  views  of  it.  For  probable 
proofs,  by  being  added,  not  only  increase  the  evidence, 
but  multiply  it.  Nor  should  I  dissuade  any  one  from 
setting  down,  what  he  thought  made  for  the  contrary 
side.  But  then  it  is  to  be  remembered,  not  in  order  to 
influence  his  judgment,  but  his  practice,  that  a  mistake 
on  one  side  may  be,  in  its  consequences,  much  more 
dangerous,  than  a  mistake  on  the  other.  And  what 
course  is  most  safe,  and  what  most  dangerous,  is  a  con- 
sideration thought  very  material,  when  we  deliberate, 
not  concerning  events,  but  concerning  conduct  in  our 
temporal  affairs.  To  be  influenced  by  this  considera- 
tion in  our  judgment,  to  believe  or  disbeheve  upon  it, 
is  indeed  as  much  prejudice,  as  any  thing  whatever. 
And,  like  other  prejudices,  it  operates  contrary  ways, 
in  different  men ;  for  some  are  inclined  to  believe  what 
they  hope,  and  others  what  they  fear.  And  it  is  manifest 
unreasonableness  to  apply  to  men's  passions  in  order  to 
gain  their  assent.  But  in  deliberations  concerning  con- 
duct, there  is  nothing  which  reason  more  requires  to 
be  taken  into  the  account,  than  the  importance  of  it. 
For,  suppose  it  doubtful,  what  would  be  the  conse- 
quence of  acting  in  this,  or  in  a  contrary  manner :  still, 
that  taking  one  side  could  be  attended  with  little  or  no 
bad  consequence,  and  taking  the  other  might  be  attended 
with  the  greatest,  must  appear,  to  unprejudiced  reason, 
of  the  highest  moment  towards  determining,  how  we  are 
to  act.  But  the  truth  of  our  religion,  like  the  truth  of 
common  matters,  is  to  be  judged  of  by  all  the  evidence 
taken  together.  And  unless  the  whole  series  of  things 
which  may  be  alleged  in  this  argument,  and  every  par- 
ticular thing  in  it,  can  reasonably  be  supposed  to  have 
been  by  accident  (for  here  the  stress  of  the  argument 
for  Christianity  lies) ;  then  is  the  truth  of  it  proved:  in 
like  manner,  as  if  in  any  common  case,  numerous  events 
acknowledged,  were  to  be  alleged  in  proof  of  any  other 
event  disputed;  the  truth  of  the  disputed  event  would 
be  proved,  not  only  if  any  one  of  the  acknowledged  ones 
did  of  itself  clearly  imply  it,  but,  though  no  one  of  theiu 


Chap.  VIII.] 


FOR  CHRISTIANITY. 


275 


singly  did  so,  if  the  whole  of  the  acknowledged  events 
taken  together  could  not  in  reason  be  supposed  to  have 
happened,  unless  the  disputed  one  were  true. 

It  is  obvious,  how  much  advantage  the  nature  of  this 
evidence  gives  to  those  persons  who  attack  Christianity, 
especially  in  conversation.  For  it  is  easy  to  show,  in  a 
short  and  lively  manner,  that  such  and  such  things  are 
liable  to  objection,  that  this  and  another  thing  is  of  little 
weight  in  itself ;  but  impossible  to  show,  in  like  manner, 
the  united  force  of  the  whole  argument  in  one  view. 

However,  lastly,  as  it  has  been  made  appear,  that  there 
is  no  presumption  against  a  revelation  as  miraculous ; 
that  the  general  scheme  of  Christianity,  and  the  principal 
parts  of  it,  are  conformable  to  the  experienced  constitu- 
tion of  things,  and  the  whole  perfectly  credible :  so  the 
account  now  given  of  the  positive  evidence  for  it,  shows, 
that  this  evidence  is  such,  as,  from  the  nature  of  it,  can- 
not be  destroyed,  though  it  should  be  lessened. 

CHAP.  vni. 

OF  THE  OBJECTIONS  WHICH  MAY  BE  MADE  AGAINST 
ARGUING  FROxM  THE  ANALOGY  OF  NATURE,  TO  RELI- 
GION. 

If  every  one  would  consider,  with  such  attention  as  they 
are  bound,  even  in  point  of  morality,  to  consider,  what 
they  judge  and  give  characters  of ;  the  occasion  of  this 
chapter  would  be,  in  some  good  measure  at  least,  super- 
seded. But  since  this  is  not  to  be  expected ;  for  some 
we  find  do  not  concern  themselves  to  understand  even 
what  they  write  against :  since  this  treatise,  in  common 
with  most  others,  lies  open  to  objections,  which  may  ap- 
pear very  material  to  thoughtful  men  at  first  sight ;  and, 
besides  that,  seems  ])cculiarly  liable  to  the  objections  of 
such  as  can  judge  without  thinking,  and  of  such  as  can 
censure  without  judging ;  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  set 
down  the  chief  of  these  objections  which  occur  to  me, 
and  consider  them  to  their  hands.  And  they  are  such  as 
these : 


^76  OBJECTIONS  AGAINST  THE  ANALOGY.         [Part  II. 

"That  it  is  a  poor  thing -to  solve  difficulties  in  reve- 
lation, by  saying,  that  there  are  the  sanae  in  natural 
religion ;  when  what  is  wanting  is  to  clear  both  of  them 
of  these  their  common,  as  well  as  other  their  respective, 
difficulties :  but  that  it  is  a  strange  way  indeed  of  con- 
vincing men  of  the  obligations  of  religion,  to  show  them, 
that  they  have  as  little  reason  for  their  worldly  pursuits: 
and  a  strange  way  of  vindicating  the  justice  and  goodness 
of  the  Author  of  Nature,  and  of  removing  the  objections 
against  both,  to  which  the  system  of  religion  lies  open, 
to  show,  that  the  like  objections  lie  against  natural 
providence ;  a  way  of  answering  objections  against  re- 
ligion, without  so  much  as  pretending  to  make  out,  that 
the  system  of  it,  or  the  particular  things  in  it  objected 
against,  are  reasonable — especially,  perhaps  some  may  be 
inattentive  enough  to  add.  Must  this  be  thought  strange, 
when  it  is  confessed  that  analogy  is  no  answer  to  such 
objections:  that  when  this  sort  of  reasoning  is  carried  to 
the  utmost  length  it  can  be  imagined  capable  of,  it  will 
yet  leave  the  mind  in  a  very  unsatisfied  state ;  and  that 
it  must  be  unaccountable  ignorance  of  mankind,  to  ima- 
gine they  will  be  prevailed  with  to  forego  their  present 
interests  and  pleasures,  from  regard  to  religion,  upon 
doubtful  evidence." 

Now,  as  plausible  as  this  way  of  talking  may  appear, 
that  appearance  will  be  found  in  a  great  measure  owing 
to  half  views,  which  show  but  part  of  an  object,  yet  show 
that  indistinctly,  and  to  undeterminate  language.  By 
these  means  weak  men  are  often  deceived  by  others, 
and  ludicrous  men,  by  themselves.  And  even  those, 
who  are  serious  and  considerate,  cannot  always  readily 
disentangle,  and  ^t  once  clearly  see  through  the  perplex- 
ities, in  which  subjects  themselves  are  involved ;  and 
which  are  heightened  by  the  deficiencies  and  the  abuse 
of  words.  To  this  latter  sort  of  persons,  the  following 
reply  to  each  part  of  this  objection  severally,  may  be  of 
some  assistance ;  as  it  may  also  tend  a  little  to  stop  and 
silence  others. 

First,  The  thing  wanted,  i.  c.  what  men  require,  is  to 
have  all  difficulties  cleared.  And  this  is,  or,  at  least  for 
any  thing  we  know  to  the  contrary,  it  may  be,  the  same. 


Chap.  VIII.]  OF  NATURE  TO  RELIGION.  277 

as  requiring  to  comprehend  the  Divine  nature,  and  the 
whole  plan  of  Providence  from  everlasting  to  everlast- 
ing. But  it  hath  always  been  allowed  to  argue  from 
what  is  acknowledged,  to  what  is  disputed.  And  it  is 
in  no  other  sense  a  poor  thing,  to  argue  from  natural 
religion  to  revealed,  in  the  manner  found  fault  with,  than 
it  is  to  argue  in  numberless  other  ways  of  probable  de- 
duction and  inference,  in  matters  of  conduct,  which  we 
are  continually  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  doing.  In- 
deed the  epithet  poor  may  be  applied,  I  fear  as  properly, 
to  great  part  or  the  whole  of  human  life,  as  it  is  to  the 
things  mentioned  in  the  objection.  Is  it  not  a  poor  thing, 
for  a  physician  to  have  so  little  knowledge  in  the  cure 
of  diseases,  as  even  the  most  eminent  have  ?  To  act 
upon  conjecture  and  guess,  where  the  hfe  of  man  is  con- 
cerned.^ Undoubtedly  it  is:  but  not  in  comparison  of 
having  no  skill  at  all  in  that  useful  art,  and  being  obliged 
to  act  wholly  in  the  dark. 

Further :  since  it  is  as  unreasonable,  as  it  is  common, 
to  urge  objections  against  revelation,  which  are  of  equal 
weight  against  natural  religion  ;  and  those  who  do  this, 
if  they  are  not  confused  themselves,  deal  unfairly  with 
others,  in  making  it  seem,  that  they  are  arguing  only 
against  revelation,  or  particular  doctrines  of  it,  when  in 
reality  they  are  arguing  against  moral  providence ;  it  is  a 
thing  of  consequence  to  show,  that  such  objections  are 
as  much  levelled  against  natural  religion,  as  against  re- 
vealed. And  objections,  which  are  equally  applicable 
to  both,  are  properly  speaking  answered,  by  its  being 
shown  that  they  are  so,  provided  the  former  be  admitted 
to  be  true.  And  without  taking  in  the  consideration 
how  distinctly  this  is  adniittc^d,  it  is  plainly  very  material 
to  observe,  that  as  the  things  objected  against  in  natural 
religion  are  of  the  same  kind  with  what  is  certain  mat- 
ter of  experience  in  the  course  of  providence,  and  in  the 
information  which  Cod  affords  us  concerning  our  tem- 
poral interest  under  his  government ;  so  the  ol)jertions 
against  the  system  of  Christianity,  and  the  evidence  of 
it,  are  of  the  very  same  kind  with  thost»  which  are 
made  against  the  system  and  evidence  of  natural  n  iigion. 
11  'Wc\er,  the  reader  upon  review  may  se(%  that  most  of 


278  OBJECTIONS  AGAINST  THE  ANALOGY  [Part  II. 

the  analogies  insisted  upon,  even  in  the  latter  part  of 
this  treatise,  do  not  necessarily  require  to  have  more 
taken  for  granted  than  is  in  the  former;  that  there  is  an 
Author  of  nature,  or  natural  Governor  of  the  world:  and 
Christianity  is  vindicated,  not  from  its  analogy  to  natural 
religion,  but  chiefly  from  its  analogy  to  the  experienced 
constitution  of  nature. 

Secondly y  Religion  is  a  practical  thing,  and  consists  in 
such  a  determinate  course  of  life,  as  being  what,  there  is 
reason  to  think,  is  commanded  by  the  Author  of  nature, 
and  will,  upon  the  whole,  be  our  happiness  under  his 
government.  Now  if  men  tan  be  convinced,  that  they 
have  the  like  reason  to  believe  this,  as  to  believe  that 
taking  care  of  their  temporal  affairs  will  be  to  their  ad- 
vantage ;  such  conviction  cannot  but  be  an  argument  to 
them  for  the  practice  of  religion.  And  if  there  be  really 
any  reason  for  believing  one  of  these,  and  endeavouring 
to  preserve  life,  and  secure  ourselves  the  necessaries  and 
conveniences  of  it ;  then  there  is  reason  also  for  believ- 
ing the  other,  and  endeavouring  to  secure  the  interest  it 
proposes  to  us.  And  if  the  interest,  which  religion  pro- 
poses to  us,  be  infinitely  greater  than  our  whole  temporal 
interest;  then  there  must  be  proportionably  greater  reason 
for  endeavouring  to  secure  one,  than  the  other;  since,  by 
the  supposition,  the  probability  of  our  securing  one  is 
equal  to  the  probability  of  our  securing  the  other.  This 
seems  plainly  unanswerable ;  and  has  a  tendency  to  in- 
fluence fair  minds,  w^ho  consider  what  our  condition  really 
is,  or  upon  what  evidence  we  are  naturally  appointed  to 
act ;  and  who  are  disposed  to  acquiesce  in  the  terms 
upon  which  we  live,  and  attend  to  and  follow  that  practical 
instruction,  whatever  it  be,  which  is  afforded  us. 

But  the  chief  and  proper  force  of  the  argument  re^ 
ferred  to  in  the  objection,  lies  in  another  place.  For,  it 
is  said  that  the  proof  of  religion  is  involved  in  such  in- 
extricable difficulties,  as  to  render  it  doubtful ;  and  that 
it  cannot  be  supposed,  that,  if  it  were  true,  it  would  be 
left  upon  doubtful  evidence.  Here  then,  over  and  above 
the  force  of  each  particular  difficulty  or  objection,  these 
difficulties  and  objections  taken  together  are  turned  into 
a  positive  argument  against  the  truth  of  religion;  which 


Oup.  nn.]  OF  NATURE  TO  RELIGION.  279 

argument  would  stand  thus.  If  religion  were  true,  it 
w  ould  not  be  left  doubtful,  and  open  to  objections  to  the 
degree  in  which  it  is :  therefore  that  it  is  thus  left,  not 
only  renders  the  evideace  of  it^iWeak,  and  lessens  its 
force,  in  proportion  to  the  weight  of  such  objections  ; 
but  also  shows  it  to  be  false,  or  is  a  general  presumption 
of  its  being  so.  Now  the  observation,  that,  from  the 
natural  constitution  and  course  of  things,  we  must  in  our 
temporal  concerns,  almost  continually,  and  in  matters  of 
great  consequence,  act  upon  evidence  of  a  like  kind  and 
degree  to  the  evidence  of  religion,  is  an  answer  to  this 
argument ;  because  it  shows,  that  it  is  according  to  the 
conduct  and  character  of  the  Author  of  nature  to  appoint 
we  should  act  upon  evidence  like  to  that,  which  this 
argument  presumes  he  cannot  be  supposed  to  appoint 
we  should  act  upon :  it  is  an  instance,  a  general  one, 
made  up  of  numerous  particular  ones,  of  somewhat  in 
his^dealing  with  us,  similar  to  what  is  said  to  be  incredi- 
ble. And  as  the  force  of  this  answer  lies  merely  in  the 
parallel,  which  there  is  between  the  evidence  for  religion 
and  for  our  temporal  conduct;  the  answer  is  equally  just 
and  conclusive,  whether  the  parallel  be  made  out,  by 
showmg  the  evidence  of  the  former  to  be  higher,  or  the 
evidence  of  the  latter  to  be  lower. 

Thirdly,  The  design  of  this  treatise  is  not  to  vindicate 
the  character  of  God,  but  to  show  the  obligations  of  men: 
it  is  not  to  justify  his  providence,  but  to  show  what  be- 
longs to  us  to  do.  These  are  two  subjects,  and  ought 
not  to  be  confounded.  And  though  they  may  at  length 
run  up  into  each  other,  yet  observations  may  imme- 
diately tend  to  make  out  the  latter,  which  do  not  appear^ 
by  any  immediate  connexion,  to  the  purpose  of  the  for- 
mer; which  is  less  our  concern,  than  many  seem  to 
think.  For,  first,  it  is  not  necessary  we  should  justify 
the  dispensations  of  Providence  airainst  objections,  any 
farther  than  to  show,  that  the  things  objected  against 
may,  for  ought  we  know,  be  consistent  with  justice  and 
goodness.  Suppose  then,  that  there  are  thinirs  in  the 
system  of  this  world,  and  ])l;ui  of  Providence  relating  to 
it,  which  taken  alone  would  be  imjust:  yet  it  has  been 
shown  unanswerably,  \\vM  if  w(^  could  take  in  the  refer- 


280         Objections  against  the  analogy       [Part  if; 

ence,  which  these  things  may  have  to  other  things  pre- 
sent, past,  and  to  come;  to  the  whole  scheme,  which  the 
things  objected  against  are  parts  of ;  these  very  things 
might,  for  ought  we  ki>ow,  be  found  to  be,  not  only  con- 
sistent with  justice,  but  instances  of  it.    Indeed  it  has 
been  shown,  by  the  analogy  of  what  we  see,  not  only 
possible  that  this  may  be  the  case,  but  credible  that  it  is* 
And  thus  objections,  drawn  from  such  things,  are  an-- 
swered,  and  Providence  is  vindicated,  as  far  as  religion: 
makes  its  vindication  necessary.    Hence  it  appears, 
secondly,  that  objections  against  the  Divine  justice  and 
goodness  are  not  endeavoured  to  be  removed,  by  show-  • 
ing  that  the  like  objections,  allowed  to  be  really  conclu- 
sive, lie  against  natural  providence :  but  those  objections 
being  supposed  and  shown  not  to  be  conclusive,  the 
things  objected  against,  considered  as  matters  of  fact,  are 
farther  shown  to  be  credible,  from  their  conformity  to 
the  constitution  of  nature;  for  instance,  that  God  will  re- 
ward and  punish  men  for  their  actions  hereafter,  from 
the  observation,  that  he  does  reward  and  punish  them 
for  their  actions  here.    And  this,  I  apprehend,  is  of 
weight.    And  I  add,  thirdly,  it  would  be  of  weight,  even- 
though  those  objections  were  not  answered.    For,  there 
being  the  proof  of  religion  above  set  down  ;  and  religion- 
implying  several  facts;  for  instance  again,  the  fact  last 
mentioned,  that  God  will  reward  and  punish  men  for 
their  actions  hereafter;  the  observation,  that  his  present" 
method  of  government  is  by  rewards  and  punishments, 
shows  that  future  fact  not  to  be  incredible:  whatever  ob- 
jections men  may  think  they  have  against  it,  as  unjust  or  • 
unmerciful,  according  to  their  notions  of  justice  and 
mercy;  or  as  improbable  from  their  belief  of  necessity. 
I  say,  as  improbable:  for  it  is  evident  no  objection  against 
it,  as  unjust,  can  be  urged  from  necessity;  since  this  no- 
tion as  much  destroys  injustice,  as  it  does  justice.  Then, 
fourthly.  Though  objections  against  the  reasonableness 
of  the  system  of  religion  cannot  inde.  d  be  answered  with- 
out entering  into  consideration  of  its  reasonableness; 
vet  objections  against  the  credibility  or  truth  of  it  may. . 
Because  th  •  system  of  it  is  reducible  into  what  is  pro- 
perly matter  of  fact:  and  the  truth,  the  probable  truths 


Chap.  VIII.]  OF  NATURE  TO  RELIGION.  281 

of  facts,  may  be  shown  without  consideration  of  their 
reasonableness.  Nor  is  it  necessary,  though,  in  some 
cases  and  respects,  it  is  highly  useful  and  proper,  yet  it 
is  not  necessary,  to  give  a  proof  of  the  reasonableness  of 
every  precept  enjoined  us,  and  of  every  particular  dis- 
pensation of  Providence,  which  comes  into  the  system  of 
religion.  Indeed  the  more  thoroughly  a  person  of  a 
right  disposition  is  convinced  of  the  perfection  of  the 
Divine  nature  and  conduct,  the  farther  he  will  advance 
towards  that  perfection  of  religion,  which  St  John*  speaks 
of.  But  the  general  obhgations  of  religion  are  fully 
made  out,  by  proving  the  reasonableness  of  the  practice 
of  it.  And  that  the  practice  of  religion  is  reasonable, 
may  be  shown,  though  no  more  could  be  proved,  than 
that  the  system  of  it  may  be  so,  for  ought  we  know  to 
the  contrary:  and  even  without  entering  into  the  distinct 
consideration  of  this.  And  from  hence,  fifthly.  It  is  easy 
to  sec,  that  though  the  analogy  of  nature  is  not  an  imme- 
diate answer  to  objections  against  the  wisdom,  the  jus- 
tice, or  goodness,  of  any  doctrine  or  precept  of  religion; 
yet  it  may  be,  as  it  is,  an  immediate  and  direct  answer 
to  what  is  really  intended  by  such  objections ;  which 
is,  to  show  that  the  things  objected  against  are  incre- 
dible. 

Fourthly^  It  is  most  readily  acknowledged,  that  the 
foregoing  treatise  is  by  no  means  satisfactory  ;  very  far 
indeed  from  it :  but  so  would  any  natural  institution  of 
life  appear,  if  reduced  into  a  system,  together  with  its 
evidence.  Leaving  religion  out  of  the  case,  men  are 
divided  in  their  opinions,  whether  our  pleasures  over- 
balance our  pains  :  and  whether  it  be,  or  be  not,  eligible 
to  live  in  this  world.  And  were  all  such  controversies 
settled,  which  perhaps,  in  speculation,  would  be  found 
involved  in  great  dithculties  ;  and  were  it  determined 
upon  the  evidence  of  reason,  as  nature  has  detenninod 
it  to  our  hands,  that  life  is  to  be  preserved:  yet  still,  the 
rules  which  God  has  been  ])leased  to  afford  us,  for  escap- 
ing the  miseries  of  it,  and  obtaining  its  satisfactions,  the 
rules,  for  instance,  of  preserving  health,  and  recovering 
it  when  lost,  are  not  only  fallible  and  precarious,  but 

♦  John  iv.  18. 


282  OBJECTIONS  AGAINST  THE  ANALOGY         [Part II. 

very  far  from  being  exact.  Nor  are  we  informed  by  na- 
ture, in  future  contingencies  and  accidents,  so  as  to  ren- 
der it  at  all  certain,  what  is  the  best  method  of  managing 
our  affairs.  What  will  be  the  success  of  our  temporal 
pursuits,  in  the  common  sense  of  the  word  Success,  is 
highly  doubtful.  And  what  will  be  the  success  of  them 
in  the  proper  sense  of  the  word  ;  i.  e.  what  happiness  or 
enjoyment  we  shall  obtain  by  them,  is  doubtful  in  a  much 
higher  degree.  Indeed  the  unsatisfactory  nature  of  the 
evidence,  with  which  we  are  obliged  to  take  up,  in  the 
daily  course  of  hfe,  is  scarce  to  be  expressed.  Yet  men 
do  not  throw  away  life,  or  disregard  the  interests  of  it, 
upon  account  of  this  doubtfulness.  The  evidence  of  re- 
ligion then  being  admitted  real,  those  who  object  against 
it,  as  not  satisfactory,  i.  e.  as  not  being  what  they  wish 
it,  plainly  forget  the  very  condition  of  our  being :  for 
satisfaction,  in  this  sense,  does  not  belong  to  such  a 
creature  as  man.  And,  which  is  more  material,  they 
forget  also  the  very  nature  of  religion.  For,  religion  pre- 
supposes, in  all  those  who  will  embrace  it,  a  certain  de- 
gree of  integrity  and  honesty;  which  it  was  intended  to 
try  whether  men  have  or  not,  and  to  exercise  in  such  as 
have  it,  in  order  to  its  improvement.  Religion  presup- 
poses this  as  much,  and  in  the  same  sense,  as  speaking 
to  a  man  presupposes  he  understands  the  language  in 
which  you  speak  ;  or  as  warning  a  man  of  any  danger 
presupposes  that  he  hath  such  a  regard  to  himself,  as 
that  he  will  endeavour  to  avoid  it.  And  therefore  the 
question  is  not  at  all.  Whether  the  evidence  of  religion 
be  satisfactory  ;  but  Whether  it  be,  in  reason,  sufficient 
to  prove  and  discipline  that  virtue,  which  it  presupposes. 
Now  the  evidence  of  it  is  fully  sufficient  for  all  those 
purposes  of  probation  ;  how  far  soever  it  is  from  being 
satisfactory,  as  to  the  purposes  of  curiosity,  or  any  other: 
and  indeed  it  answers  the  purposes  of  the  former  in 
several  respects,  which  it  would  not  do,  if  it  were  as 
overbearing  as  is  required.  One  might  add  farther;  that 
whether  the  motives  or  the  evidence  for  any  course  of 
action  be  satisfactory,  meaning  here,  by  that  word,  what 
satisfies  a  man,  that  such  a  course  of  action  will  in  event 
be  for  his  good ;  this  need  never  be,  and  I  think,  strictly 


Chap.  VIII.]  OF  NATURE  TO  RELIGION. 


283 


speaking,  never  is,  the  practical  question  in  comnaon 
matters.  But  the  practical  question  in  all  cases  is, 
Whether  the  evidence  for  a  course  of  action  be  such  as, 
taking  in  all  circumstances,  makes  the  faculty  within  ns, 
which  is  the  guide  and  judge  of  conduct,*  determine  that 
course  of  action  to  be  prudent.  Indeed,  satisfaction  that 
it  will  be  for  our  interest  or  happiness,  abundantly  deter- 
mines an  action  to  be  prudent :  but  evidence  almost  in- 
finitely lower  than  this,  determines  actions  to  be  so  too ; 
even  in  the  conduct  of  every  day. 

Fifthly,  As  to  the  objection  concerning  the  influence 
w^hich  this  argument,  or  any  part  of  it,  may,  or  may  not 
be  expected  to  have  upon  men ;  I  observe,  as  above, 
that  religion  being  intended  for  a  trial  and  exercise  of 
the  morality  of  every  person's  character,  who  is  a  sub- 
ject of  it;  and  there  being,  as  I  have  shown,  such  evi- 
dence for  it,  as  is  sufficient,  in  reason,  to  influence  men 
to  embrace  it :  to  object,  that  it  is  not  to  be  imagined 
mankind  will  be  influenced  by  such  evidence,  is  nothing 
to  the  purpose  of  the  foregoing  treatise.  For  the  pur- 
pose of  it  is  not  to  inquire,  what  sort  of  creatures  man- 
kind are  ;  but  what  the  light  and  knowledge,  which  is 
afforded  them,  requires  they  should  be  :  to  show  how,  in 
reason,  they  ought  to  behave ;  not  how,  in  fact,  they  will 
behave.  This  depends  upon  themselves,  and  is  their 
own  concern  ;  the  personal  concern  of  each  man  in  par- 
ticular. And  how  little  regard  the  generality  have  to  it, 
experience  indeed  does  too  fully  show.  But  religion, 
considered  as  a  probation,  has  had  its  end  upon  all  per- 
sons, to  whom  it  has  been  proposed  with  evidence  suf- 
ficient in  reason  to  influence  their  practice:  for  by  this 
means  they  have  been  put  into  a  state  of  probation ;  let 
them  behave  as  they  will  in  it.  And  thus,  not  only  re- 
velation, but  reason  also,  teaches  us,  that  by  the  evidence 
of  rcli«^ion  being  laid  before  me  n,  the  designs  of  Provi- 
dence are  carrying  on,  not  only  with  regard  to  those  who 
will,  but  likewise  with  regard  to  those  who  will  not,  be 
influenced  by  it.  However,  lastly,  the  objection  here  re- 
ferred to,  allows  the  things  insisted  upon  in  this  tn^alise 
to  be  of  some  weight ;  and  if  so,  it  may  be  hoped  it  will 


*  See  Diss<  rt.  H. 


284  OBJECTIONS  AGAINST  THE  ANALOGY  [PartH. 

have  some  influence.  And  if  there  be  a  probabiHty  that 
it  will  have  any  at  all,  there  is  the  same  reason  in  kind, 
though  not  in  degree,  to  lay  it  before  men,  as  there  would 
be,  if  it  were  likely  to  have  a  greater  influence. 

And  farther,  I  desire  it  may  be  considered,  with  re- 
spect to  the  whole  of  the  foregoing  objections,  that  in  this 
treatise  I  have  argued  upon  the  principles  of  others,*  not 
my  own  :  and  have  omitted  what  I  think  true,  and  of  the 
utmost  importance,  because  by  others  thought  unintelli- 
gible, or  not  true.  Thus  I  have  argued  upon  the  prin- 
ciples of  the  Fatalists,  which  I  do  not  believe :  and  have 
omitted  a  thing  of  the  utmost  importance  which  I  do  be- 
lieve, the  moral  fitness  and  unfitness  of  actions,  prior  to 
all  will  whatever;  which  I  apprehend  as  certainly  to 
determine  the  Divine  conduct,  as  speculative  truth  and 
falsehood  necessarily  determine  the  Divine  judgment. 
Indeed  the  principle  of  liberty,  and  that  of  moral  fitness, 
so  force  themselves  upon  the  mind,  that  morahsts,  the 
ancients  as  well  as  moderns,  have  formed  their  language 
upon  it.  And  probably  it  may  appear  in  mine  :  though 
I  have  endeavoured  to  avoid  it;  and,  in  order  to  avoid  it, 
have  sometimes  been  obliged  to  express  myself  in  a 
manner,  which  will  appear  strange  to  such  as  do  not 
observe  the  reason  for  it:  but  the  general  argument  here 
pursued  does  not  at  all  suppose,  or  proceed  upon  these 
principles.  Now,  these  two  abstract  principles  of  liberty 
and  moral  fitness  being  omitted,  religion  can  be  consid- 
ered in  no  other  view,  than  merely  as  a  question  6f 
fact:  and  in  this  view  it  is  here  considered.  It  is  obvious, 
that  Christianity,  and  the  proof  of  it,  are  both  historical. 
And  even  natural  religion  is,  properly,  a  matter  of  fact. 
For,  that  there  is  a  righteous  Governor  of  the  world,  is 
so:  and  this  proposition  contains  the  general  system  of 
natural  religion.  But  then,  several  abstract  truths,  and 
in  particular  those  two  principles,  are  usually  taken  into 
consideration  in  the  proof  of  it:  whereas  it  is  here  treated 
of  only  as  a  matter  of  fact.  To  explain  this:  that  the 
three  angles  of  a  triangle  arc  equal  to  two  right  ones, 

*  By  arguing  upon  the  principles  of  others,  the  rrader  will  observe  is  meant,  not 
proving  any  thinp^  from  those  i)riiicipi<'s,  hut  7iotvuths(and/fifS  them.  Thus  religion 
is  prov»{l,  not  /rrym  tiie  opinion  of  necessity;  which  is  absurd  :  h\xi,  notxvitkstanditig 
or  even  though  that  opinion  were  admitted  to  be  true. 


Chap.  VIII.]  OF  NATURE  TO  RELIGION.  285 

is  an  abstract  truth:  but  that  they  appear  so  to  our  mind, 
is  only  a  matter  of  fact.  And  this  last  must  have  been 
admitted,  if  any  thing  was,  by  those  ancient  sceptics,  who 
would  not  have  admitted  the  former:  but  pretended  to 
doubt.  Whether  there  were  any  such  thing  as  truth,  or 
Whether  we  could  certainly  depend  upon  our  faculties 
of  understanding  for  the  knowledge  of  it  in  any  case. 
So  likewise,  that  there  is,  in  the  nature  of  things,  an 
original  standard  of  right  and  wrong  in  actions,  indepen- 
dent upon  all  will,  but  which  unalterably  determines  the 
will  of  God,  to  exercise  that  moral  government  over  the 
world,  which  religion  teaches,  i.  e.  finally  and  upon  the 
whole  to  reward  and  punish  men  respectively  as  they  act 
right  or  wrong;  this  assertion  contains  an  abstract  truth, 
as  well  as  matter  of  fact.  But  suppose,  in  the  present 
state,  every  man,  without  exception,  was  rewarded  and 
punished,  in  exact  proportion  as  he  followed  or  trans- 
gressed that  sense  of  right  and  wrong,  which  God  has 
implanted  in  the  nature  of  every  man:  this  would  not  be 
at  all  an  abstract  truth,  but  only  a  matter  of  fact.  And 
though  this  fact  were  acknowledged  by  every  one;  yet 
the  very  same  difficulties  might  be  raised  as  are  now, 
concerning  the  abstract  questions  of  liberty  and  moral 
fitness:  and  we  should  have  a  proof,  even  the  certain 
one  of  experience,  that  the  government  of  the  world  was 
perfectly  moral,  without  taking  in  the  consideration  of 
those  questions:  and  this  proof  would  remain,  in  what 
way  soever  they  were  determined.  And  thus,  God  hav- 
ing given  mankind  a  moral  faculty,  the  object  of  which 
is  actions,  and  which  naturally  approves  some  actions  as 
right,  and  of  good  desert,  and  condemns  others  as  wrong, 
and  of  ill  desert;  that  he  will,  finally  and  upon  the  whole, 
reward  the  former  and  punish  the  latter,  is  not  an  asser- 
tion of  an  abstract  truth,  but  of  what  is  as  mere  a  fact,  as 
his  doing  so  at  present  would  be.  This  future  fact  I 
have  not,  indeed,  proved  with  the  force  with  which  it 
might  be  proved,  from  the  principles  of  liberty  and  moral 
fitness;  but  without  them  liavc  given  a  really  conclusive 
practical  proof  of  it,  which  is  greatlv  strengtlicn(?d  by  the 
general  analogy  of  natiue:  a  proof  easily  cavilled  at, 
easily  shown  not  to  be  demonstrative,  for  it  is  not  offered 


286  CONCLUSION.  [PARTir, 

as  such;  but  impossible,  I  think,  to  be  evaded,  or  an- 
swered. And  thus  the  obhgations  of  rehgion  are  made 
out,  exclusively  of  the  questions  concerning  liberty  and 
moral  fitness;  which  have  been  perplexed  with  difficul- 
ties and  abstruse  reasonings,  as  every  thing  may. 

Hence  therefore  may  be  observed  distinctly,  what  is 
the  force  of  this  treatise.  It  will  be,  to  such  as  are  con- 
vinced of  rehgion  upon  the  proof  arising  out  of  the  two 
last  mentioned  principles,  an  additional  proof  and  a  con- 
firmation of  it:  to  such  as  do  not  admit  those  principles^ 
an  original  proof  of  it,*  and  a  confirmation  of  that  proof. 
Those  who  believe  will  here  find  the  scheme  of  Chris- 
tianity cleared  of  objections,  and  the  evidence  of  it  in  a 
peculiar  manner  strengthened:  those  who  do  not  beheve 
will  at  least  be  shown  the  absurdity  of  all  attempts  to 
prove  Christianity  false,  the  plain  undoubted  credibility 
of  it;  and,  I  hope,  a  good  deal  more. 

And  thus,  though  some  perhaps  may  seriously  think, 
that  analogy,  as  here  urged,  has  too  great  stress  laid 
upon  it;  and  ridicule,  unanswerable  ridicule,  may  be 
applied,  to  show  the  argument  from  it  in  a  disadvan- 
tageous light;  yet  there  can  be  no  question,  but  that  it  is 
a  real  one.  For  religion,  both  natural  and  revealed, 
implying  in  it  numerous  facts;  analogy,  being  a  confir- 
mation of  all  facts  to  which  it  can  be  applied,  as  it  is  the 
only  proof  of  most,  cannot  but  be  admitted  by  every  one 
to  be  a  material  thing,  and  truly  of  weight  on  the  side 
of  religion,  both  natural  and  revealed:  and  it  ought  to 
be  particularly  regarded  by  such  as  profess  to  follow 
nature,  and  to  be  less  satisfied  with  abstract  reasonings. 

CONCLUSION. 

Whatever  account  may  be  given  of  the  strange  inat- 
tention and  disregard,  in  some  ages  and  countries,  to  a 
matter  of  such  importance  as  Religion;  it  would,  before 
experience,  be  incredible,  that  there  should  be  the  like 
disregard  in  those,  who  have  had  the  moral  system  of 
the  world  laid  before  them,  as  it  is  by  Christianity,  and 

*  p.  141,  &c. 


p^RT  II.l  CONCLUSION.  287 

often  inculcated  upon  them :  because  this  moral  system 
carries  in  it  a  good  degree  of  evidence  for  its  truth,  upon 
its  being  barely  proposed  to  our  thoughts.  There  is  no 
need  of  abstruse  reasonings  and  distinctions,  to  convince 
an  unprejudiced  understanding,  that  there  is  a  God  who 
made  and  governs  the  world,  and  will  judge  it  in  right- 
eousness; though  they  may  be  necessary  to  answer 
abstruse  difficulties,  when  once  such  are  raised:  when 
the  very  meaning  of  those  words,  which  express  most 
intelhgibly  the  general  doctrine  of  religion,  is  pretended 
to  be  uncertain;  and  the  clear  truth  of  the  thing  itself  is 
obscured  by  the  intricacies  of  speculation.  But  to  an 
unprejudiced  mind,  ten  thousand  thousand  instinces  of 
design  cannot  but  prove  a  designer.  And  it  is  intui- 
tively manifest,  that  creatures  ought  to  live  under  a  duti- 
ful sense  of  their  Maker;  and  that  justice  and  charity 
must  be  his  laws,  to  creatures  whom  he  has  made  social, 
and  placed  in  society.  Indeed  the  truth  of  revealed 
religion,  peculiarly  so  called,  is  not  self-evident,  but  re- 
quires external  proof,  in  order  to  its  being  received. 
Yet  inattention,  among  us,  to  revealed  religion,  will  be 
found  to  imply  the  same  dissolute  immoral  temper  of 
mind,  as  inattention  to  natural  religion:  because,  when 
boh  are  laid  before  us,  in  the  manner  thev  are  in  Chris- 
tian countries  of  liberty,  our  obligations  to  inquire  into 
ooth,  and  to  embrace  both  upon  supposition  of  their 
truth,  are  obligations  of  the  same  nature.  For,  revela- 
tion claims  to  be  the  voice  of  God:  and  our  obligation 
to  attend  to  his  voice  is  surely  moral  in  all  cases.  And 
as  it  is  insisted,  that  its  evidence  is  conclusive,  upon 
thorough  consideration  of  it;  so  it  offers  itself  to  us  with 
manifest  obvious  appearances  of  having  somcthinc:  more 
than  liuman  in  it,  and  therefore  in  all  reason  requires  to 
have  its  claims  most  seriously  examined  into.  It  is  to 
be  added,  that  though  light  and  knowledge,  in  what 
manner  soever  afforded  us,  is  equally  from  (Jod;  yet  a 
miraculous  revelation  has  a  peculiar  tendency,  from  the 
first  principles  of  our  nature,  to  awaken  mankind,  and 
mspire  them  with  reverence  and  awe  :  and  this  is  a 
peculiar  oblio^ation,  to  attend  to  what  claims  to  be  so 
with  such  appearances  of  truth.    It  is  therefore  most 


288  CONCLUSION.  [Part  II. 

certain,  that  our  obligations  to  inquire  seriously  into  the 
evidence  of  Christianity,  and,  upon  supposition  of  its 
truth,  to  embrace  it,  are  of  the  utmost  importance,  and 
moral  in  the  highest  and  most  proper  sense.  Let  us 
then  suppose,  that  the  evidence  of  religion  in  general, 
and  of  Christianity,  has  been  seriously  inquired  into,  by 
all  reasonable  men  among  us.  Yet  we  find  many  pro- 
fessedly to  reject  both,  upon  speculative  principles  of 
infidelity.  And  all  of  them  4o  not  content  themselves 
with  a  bare  neglect  of  religion,  and  enjoying  their  ima- 
ginary freedom  from  its  restraints.  Some  go  much 
beyond  this.  They  deride  God's  moral  government 
over  the  world.  They  renounce  his  protection,  and 
defv^  his  justice.  They  ridicule  and  vilify  Christianity, 
and  blaspheme  the  author  of  it ;  and  take  all  occasions 
to  manifest  a  scorn  and  contempt  of  revelation.  This 
amounts  to  an  active  setting  themselves  against  religion ; 
to  what  may  be  considered  as  a  positive  principle  of  irre- 
ligion  ;  which  they  cultivate  within  themselves,  and, 
whether  they  intend  this  effect  or  not,  render  habitual,  as  a 
good  man  docs  the  contrary  principle.  And  others,  who 
are  not  chargeable  with  all  this  profligateness,  yet  are  in 
avovred  opposition  to  religion,  as  if  discovered  to  be 
groundless.  Now  admitting,  which  is  the  supposition 
we  go  upon,  that  these  persons  act  upon  what  they 
think  principles  of  reason,  and  otherwise  they  are  not 
to  be  argued  w^th;  it  is  really  inconceivable,  that  they 
should  imagine  they  clearly  see  the  whole  evidence  of 
it,  considered  in  itself,  to  be  nothing  at  all:  nor  do  they 
pretend  this.  They  are  far  indeed  from  having  a  just 
notion  of  its  evidence:  but  they  would  not  say  its  evi- 
dence was  nothing,  if  they  thought  the  system  of  it,  with 
all  its  circumstances,  were  credible,  like  other  matters  of 
science  or  history.  So  their  manner  of  treating  it  must 
proceed,  either  from  such  kind  of  objections  against  all 
religion,  as  have  been  answered  or  obviated  in  the  for- 
mer part  of  this  treatise;  or  cisc  from  obj(  ctions,  and 
difficulties,  supposed  more  peculiar  to  Christianity. 
Thus,  they  entertain  prejudices  against  the  whole  no- 
tion of  a  revelation,  and  miraculous  interpositions. 
They  find  things  in  Scripture,  whether  in  incidental 


PkRT  II.1 


CONCLUSION. 


289 


passages,  or  in  the  general  scheme  of  it,  which  appear 
to  them  unreasonable.  They  take  for  granted,  that  if 
Christianity  were  true,  the  light  of  it  must  have  been 
more  general,  and  the  evidence  of  it  more  satisfactory, 
or  rather  overbearing: ;  that  it  must  and  would  have 
been,  in  some  way,  otherwise  put  and  left,  than  it  is. 
Now  this  is  not  imagining  they  see  the  evidence  itself  to 
be  nothing,  or  inconsiderable  ;  but  quite  another  thing. 
It  is  being  fortified  against  the  evidence,  in  some  degree 
acknowledged,  by  thinking  they  see  the  system  of  Chris- 
tianity, or  somewhat  which  appears  to  them  necessarily 
connected  with  it,  to  be  incredible  or  false  ;  fortified 
against  that  evidence,  which  might,  otherwise,  make 
great  impression  upon  them.  Or,  lastly,  if  any  of  these 
persons  are,  upon  the  whole,  in  doubt  concerning  the 
truth  of  Christianity  ;  their  behaviour  seems  owing  to 
their  taking  for  granted,  through  strange  inattention,  that 
such  doubting  is,  in  a  manner,  the  same  thing  as  being 
certain  against  it. 

To  these  persons,  and  to  this  state  of  opinion  con- 
cerning religion,  the  foregoing  treatise  is  adapted.  For, 
all  the  general  objections  against  the  moral  system  of 
nature  having  been  obviated,  it  is  shown,  that  there  is 
not  any  peculiar  presumption  at  all  against  Christianity, 
either  considered  as  not  discoverable  by  reason,  or  as  un- 
like to  what  is  so  discovered  ;  nor  any  worth  mentioning 
against  it  as  miraculous,  if  any  at  all  ;  none,  certainly, 
which  can  render  it  in  the  least  incredible.  It  is  shown, 
that,  upon  supposition  of  a  divine  revelation,  the  analogy 
of  nature  renders  it  beforehand  highly  credible,  I  think 
probable,  that  many  things  in- it  must  appear  liable  to 
great  objections  ;  and  that  we  must  be  incompetent  judges 
of  it,  to  a  great  degree.  This  observation  is,  1  think, 
unquestionably  true,  and  of  the  very  utmost  importance: 
but  it  is  urged,  as  I  hope  it  will  be  understood,  with 
great  caution  of  not  vilifying  the  faculty  of  reason,  which 
is  the  candle  of  the  Lord  iritliin  us  though  it  can  afford 
no  light,  where  it  does  not  shine  ;  nor  judge,  whore  it 
has  no  principles  to  judge  upon.  The  objections  here 
spoken  of,  being  first  answered  in  the  view  of  objections 

♦  Prov.  XX.  27 
T 


290 


CONCLUSION. 


[Part  II. 


against  Christianity  as  a  matter  of  fact,  are  in  the  next 
place  considered  as  urged  more  immediately  against  the 
wisdom,  justice,  and  goodness  of  the  Christian  dispensa- 
tion. And  it  is  fully  made  out,  that  they  admit  of 
exactly  the  like  answer,  in  every  respect,  to  what  the 
like  objections  against  the  constitution  of  nature  admit 
of :  that,  as  partial  views  give  the  appearance  of  wrong 
to  things,  which,  upon  further  consideration  and  know- 
ledge of  their  relations  to  other  things,  are  found  just 
and  good  ;  so  it  is  perfectly  credible,  that  the  things 
objected  against  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  the  Chris- 
tian dispensation,  may  be  rendered  instances  of  wis- 
dom and  goodness,  by  their  reference  to  other  things 
beyond  our  view :  because  Christianity  is  a  scheme  as 
much  above  our  comprehension,  as  that  of  nature  ;  and 
like  that,  a  scheme  in  which  means  are  made  use  of  to 
accomplish  ends,  and  which,  as  is  most  credible,  may  be 
carried  on  by  general  laws.  And  it  ought  to  be  attended 
to,  that  this  is  not  an  answer  taken  merely  or  chiefly 
from  our  ignorance  ;  but  from  somewhat  positive,  which 
our  observation  shows  us.  For,  to  like  objections,  the  like 
answer  is  experienced  to  be  just,  in  numberless  parallel 
cases.  The  objections  against  the  Christian  dispensation^ 
and  the  method  by  which  it  is  carried  on,  having  been 
thus  obviated,  in  general  and  together  ;  the  chief  of  them 
are  considered  distinctly,  and  the  particular  things  ob- 
jected to  are  shown  credible,  by  their  perfect  analogy, 
each  apart,  to  the  constitution  of  nature.  Thus,  if  man  be 
fallen  from  his  primitive  state,  and  to  be  restored,  and  in- 
finite wisdom  and  power  engages  in  accomplishing  our 
recovery  :  it  were  to  have  been  expected,  it  is  said,  that 
this  should  have  been  effected  at  once  ;  and  not  by  such 
a  long  series  of  means,  and  such  a  various  economy 
of  persons  and  things  ;  one  dispensation  preparatory  to 
another,  this  to  a  further  one,  and  so  on  through  an  in- 
definite number  of  ages,  before  the  end  of  the  scheme 
proposed  can  be  completely  accomplished  ;  a  scheme 
conducted  by  infinite  wisdom,  and  executed  by  almighty 
power.  But  now,  on  the  contrary,  our  finding  that 
every  thing  in  the  constitution  and  course  of  nature  is 
thus  carried  on,  shows  such  expectations  concerning 


Part  II.] 


CONCLUSION. 


291 


revelation  to  be  liighly  unreasonable  ;  and  is  a  satisfac- 
tory answer  to  them,  when  urged  as  objections  against 
the  credibility,  that  the  great  scheme  of  Providence  in 
the  redemption  of  the  world  may  be  of  this  kind,  and  to 
be  accomplished  in  this  manner.  As  to  the  particular 
method  of  our  redemption,  the  appointment  of  a  Medi- 
ator between  God  and  man  :  this  has  been  shown  to  be 
most  obviously  analogous  to  the  general  conduct  of  na- 
ture, i  e.  the  God  of  nature,  in  appointing  others  to  be 
the  instruments  of  his  mercy,  as  we  experience  in  the 
daily  course  of  providence.  The  condition  of  this  world, 
which  the  doctrine  of  our  redemption  by  Christ  presup- 
poses, so  much  falls  in  with  natural  appearances,  that 
heathen  moralists  inferred  it  from  those  appearances  : 
inferred,  that  human  nature  was  fallen  from  its  original 
rectitude,  and  in  consequence  of  this,  degraded  from  its 
primitive  happiness.  Or,  however  this  opinion  came 
into  the  world,  these  appearances  must  have  kept  up 
the  tradition,  and  confirmed  the  belief  of  it.  And  as  it 
was  the  general  opinion  under  the  light  of  nature,  that 
repentance  and  reformation,  alone  and  by  itself,  was  not 
sufficient  to  do  away  sin,  and  procure  a  full  remission  of 
the  penalties  annexed  to  it ;  and  as  the  reason  of  the 
thing  does  not  at  all  lead  to  any  such  conclusion  ;  so 
every  day's  experience  shows  us,  that  reformation  is  not, 
in  any  sort,  sufficient  to  prevent  the  present  disadvan- 
tages and  miseries,  which,  in  the  natural  course  of 
things,  God  has  annexed  to  folly  and  extravagance. 
Yet  there  may  be  ground  to  think,  that  the  punish- 
ments, which,  by  the  general  laws  of  divine  government, 
are  annexed  to  vice,  may  be  prevented  :  that  provision 
may  have  been,  even  originally,  made,  that  they  should 
be  prevented  by  some  means  or  other,  though  they 
could  not  by  reformation  alone.  For  we  have  daily  in- 
stances oi'  s?/(:h  iticrcj/y  in  the  general  conduct  of  nature  : 
compassion  provided  for  misery,*  medicines  for  diseases, 
friends  against  enemies.  There  is  ])r()vision  m  l(l(^  in 
the  oj-iginal  constitution  of  the  worUl,  that  nmch  of  the 
natural  bad  consequences  of  our  follies,  which  persons 
themselves  alone  cannot  prevent,  may  be  prevented  by 

•  Serm.  at  tho  Roll-,  p.  lOG. 

a  T 


CONCL  SION. 


[Part  fl. 


the  assistance  of  others  ;  assistance,  which  nature  ena- 
bles, and  disposes,  and  appoints  them  to  afford.     By  a 
method  of  goodness  analogous  to  this,  when  the  world 
lay  in  wickedness,  and  consequently  in  ruin,  God  so  loved 
the  world,  that  he  gave  his  only  he  gotten  Son  to  save  it: 
and  he  being  made  perfect  hy  sufferings  became  the  author 
of  eternal  salvation  to  all  them  that  obey  him,^  Indeed 
neither  reason  nor  analogy  would  lead  us  to  think,  in 
particular,  that  the  interposition  of  Christ,  in  the  manner 
in  which  he  did  interpose,  would  be  of  that  efficacy  for 
recovery  of  the  w^orld,  which  the  Scripture  teaches  us  it 
was  :  but  neither  would  reason  nor  analogy  lead  us  to 
think,  that  other  particular  means  would  be  of  the  effi- 
cacy, which  experience  shows  they  are,  in  numberless 
instances.    And  therefore,  as  the  case  before  us  does  not 
admit  of  experience ;  so,  that  neither  reason  nor  analogy 
can  show  how,  or  in  what  particular  way,  the  interposition 
of*  Christ,  as  revealed  in  Scripture,  is  of  that  efficacy^ 
which  it  is  there  represented  to  be  ;  this  is  no  kind  nor 
degree  of  presumption  against  its  being  really  of  that 
efficacy.    Further  :  the  objections  against  Christianity, 
from  the  light  of  it  not  being  universal,  nor  its  evidence 
so  strong  as  might  possibly  be  given  us,  have  been 
answered  by  the  general  analogy  of  nature.    That  God 
has  made  such  variety  of  creatures,  is  indeed  an  answer 
to  the  former:  but  that  he  dispenses  his  gifts  in  such 
variety,  both  of  degrees  and  kinds,  amongst  creatures  of 
the  same  species,  and  even  to  the  same  individuals  at 
different  times  ;  is  a  more  obvious  and  full  answer  to  it. 
And  it  is  so  far  from  being  the  method  of  Providence  in 
other  cases,  to  afford  us  such  overbearing  evidence,  as 
some  require  in  proof  of  Christianity ;  that  on  the  contrary, 
the  evidence  upon  which  we  are  naturally  appointed  to 
act  in  common  matters,  throughout  a  very  great  part  of 
life,  is  doubtful  in  a  high  degree.    And  admitting  the 
fact,  that  God  has  afforded  to  some  no  more  than  doubtful 
evidence  of  religion  ;  the  same  account  may  be  given  of 
it,  as  of  difficulties  and  temptations  with  regard  to  prac- 
tice.   But  as  it  is  not  in)possible,|  surely,  that  this  alleged 
doubtfulness  may  be  men's  own  fault ;  it  deserves  their 

•  John  iii.  IG.    Hub.  v.  9.  f  P.  237,  &c. 


Part  II.] 


CONCLUSION. 


293 


most  serious  consideration,  whether  it  be  not  so.  How- 
ever, it  is  certain,  that  doubting  implies  a  degree  of  evi- 
dence for  that  of  which  we  doubt :  and  that  this  degree 
of  evidence  as  really  lays  us  under  obligations  as  demon- 
strative evidence. 

The  whole  then  of  religion  is  throughout  credible  :  nor 
is  there,  I  think,  any  thing  relating  to  the  revealed  dis- 
pensation of  things,  more  different  from  the  experienced 
constitution  and  course  of  nature,  than  some  parts  of  the 
constitution  of  nature  are  from  other  parts  of  it.  And 
if  so,  the  only  question  which  remains  is,  what  positive 
evidence  can  be  alleged  for  the  truth  of  Christianity. 
This  too  in  general  has  been  considered,  and  the  objec- 
tions against  it  estimated.  Deduct,  therefore,  what  is  to 
be  deducted  from  that  evidence,  upon  account  of  any 
weight  which  may  be  thought  to  remain  in  these  objec- 
tions, after  what  the  analogy  of  nature  has  suggested  in 
answer  to  them  :  and  then  consider,  what  are  the  practi- 
cal consequences  from  all  this,  upon  the  most  sceptical 
principles  one  can  argue  upon  (for  I  am  writing  to  per- 
sons who  entertain  these  principles)  :  and  upon  such 
consideration  it  will  be  obvious,  that  immorality,  as  little 
excuse  as  it  admits  of  in  itself,  is  greatly  aggravated,  in 
persons  who  have  been  made  acquainted  with  Christia- 
nity, whether  they  believe  it  or  not :  bt^cause  the  moral 
system  of  nature,  or  natural  religion,  which  Christianity 
lays  before  us,  approves  itself,  almost  intuitively,  to  a 
reasonable  mind,  upon  seeing  it  proposed.  In  the  next 
place,  with  regard  to  Christianity,  it  will  be  observed  ; 
that  there  is  a  middle  between  a  full  satisfaction  of  the 
truth  of  it,  and  a  satisfaction  of  the  contrary.  The 
middle  state  of  mind  between  these  two  consists  in  a 
serious  apprehension,  that  it  may  be  true,  joined  with 
doubt  whether  it  be  so.  And  this,  upon  the  best  judg- 
ment I  am  able  to  make,  is  as  far  towards  «peculativo 
infidelity,  as  any  sceptic  can  at  all  be  suj^posed  to  go, 
who  has  had  true  Christianity,  with  the  propcM*  evidences 
of  it,  laid  before  him,  and  has  in  any  tolerable  measure 
considered  them.  For  I  would  not  be  mistaken  to  com- 
prehend all  who  have  ever  heard  of  it :  because  it  seems 
evident,  that  in  many  countries  called  Christian,  neither 


294 


CONCLUSION. 


[Part  II. 


Christianity,  nor  its  evidence,  are  fairlj^  laid  before  men 
And  in  places  where  both  are,  there  appear  to  be  some 
who  have  very  little  attended  to  either,  and  who  reject 
Christianity  with  a  scorn  proportionate  to  their  inatten* 
tion;  and  yet  are  by  no  means  without  understanding 
in  otiier  matters.  Now  it  has  been  shown,  that  a  serious 
apprehension  that  Christianity  may  be  true,  la3^s  per- 
sons under  the  strictest  obligations  of  a  serious  regard 
to  ir,  throughout  the  whole  of  their  life,  a  regard  not 
the  same  exactly,  but  in  many  respects  nearly  the  same 
w^ith  what  a  full  conviction  of  its  truth  would  lay  them 
under.  Lastly,  it  will  appear,  that  blasphemy  and  pro- 
faneness,  I  mean  with  regard  to  Christianity,  are  ab- 
solutely without  excuse.  For  there  is  no  temptation  to 
it,  but  from  the  wantonness  of  vanity  or  mirth,  and  these, 
considering  the  infinite  importance  of  the  subject,  are 
no  such  temptations  as  to  afford  any  excuse  for  it.  If 
this  be  a  just  account  of  things,  and  yet  men  can  go  on 
to  vilify  or  disregard  Christianity,  which  is  to  talk  and 
act  as  if  they  had  a  demonstration  of  its  falsehood, 
there  is  no  reason  to  think  they  would  alter  their  be- 
haviour to  any  purpose,  though  there  were  a  demon- 
stration of  its  truth. 


TWO  BRIEF 

DISSERTATIONS. 


I.  OF  PERSONAL  IDENTITY, 
n.  OF  THE  NATURE  OF  VIRTUE- 


DISSERTATION  1. 


OF  PERSONAL  IDENTITY. 

Whether  we  are  to  live  in  a  future  state,  as  it  is  tlie 
most  important  question  which  can  possibly  be  asked,  so 
it  is  the  most  intelligible  one  which  can  be  expressed  in 
languas^e.  Yet  strange  perplexities  have  been  raised 
about  the  meaning  of  that  identity  or  sameness  of  per- 
son, which  is  implied  in  the  notion  of  our  living  now  and 
hereafter,  or  in  any  two  successive  moments.  And  the 
solution  of  these  difficulties  hath  been  stranger  than  the 
difficulties  themselves.  For,  personal  identity  has  been 
explained  so  by  some,  as  to  render  the  inquiry  concern- 
ing a  future  life  of  no  consequence  at  all  to  us  the  per- 
sons who  are  making  it.  And  though  few  men  can  be 
misled  by  such  subtleties  ;  yet  it  may  be  proper  a  little  to 
consider  them. 

Now,  when  it  is  asked  wherein  personal  identity  con- 
sists, the  answer  should  be  the  same,  as  if  it  were  asked 
wherein  consists  similitude,  or  equality  ;  that  all  attempts 
to  define  would  but  perplex  it.  Yet  there  is  no  difficulty 
at  all  in  ascertaining  the  idea.  For  as,  upon  two  triangles 
being  com[)arcd  or  viewed  together,  there  arises  to  the 
mind  the  idea  of  similitude  ;  or  upon  twice  two  and  four, 
the  idea  of  equality  :  so  likewise,  upon  comparing  the 
consciousness  of  one's  self,  or  one's  own  existence,  in 
any  two  moments,  there  as  immediately  arises  to  the 
mind  the  idi^a  of  personal  identity.  And  as  the  two  for- 
mcr  coujparisons  not  only  give  us  the  ideas  of  similitude 
and  equa  ity  ;  but  also  show  us,  that  two  triangles  are 
alike,  and  twice  two  and  four  are  equal  :  so  tlu'  latter 
comparison  not  only  gives  us  the  idea  of  piu'sonal  iden- 
tity, but  also  shows  us  the  identity  of  ourselves  in  those 
two  moments  ;  the  present,  suppose,  and  that  immedi- 
ately past;  or  the  present,  and  that  a  month,  a  year,  or 
twenty  years  past.  Or  in  other  words,  by  reflecting  upon 
that  which  is  myself  now,  and  that  wliieh  was  mvsel^ 


298 


OF  PERSONAL  IDENTITY. 


[Diss.  I. 


twenty  years  ago,  I  discern  they  are  not  two,  but  one  and 
the  same  self. 

But  though  consciousness  of  what  is  past  does  thus 
ascertain  our  personal  identity  to  ourselves,  yet  to  say, 
that  it  makes  personal  identity,  or  is  necessary  to  our 
being  the  same  persons,  is  to  say,  that  a  person  has  not 
existed  a  single  moment,  nor  done  one  action,  but  what 
he  can  remember  ;  indeed  none  but  what  he  reflects 
upon.  And  one  should  really  think  it  self-evident,  that 
consciousness  of  personal  identity  presupposes,  and 
therefore  cannot  constitute,  personal  identity  ;  any  more 
than  knowledge,  in  any  other  case,  can  constitute  truth, 
which  it  presupposes. 

This  wonderful  mistake  may  possibly  have  arisen  from 
hence  ;  that  to  be  endued  with  consciousness  is  insepa- 
rable from  the  idea  of  a  person,  or  intelligent  being.  For, 
this  might  be  expressed  inaccurately  thus,  that  conscious- 
ness makes  personality :  and  from  hence  it  might  be 
concluded  to  make  personal  identity.  But  though  pre- 
sent consciousness  of  what  we  at  present  do  and  feel  is 
necessary  to  our  being  the  persons  we  now  are  ;  yet 
present  consciousness  of  past  actions  or  feelings  is  not 
necessary  to  our  being  the  same  persons  who  performed 
those  actions,  or  had  those  feelings. 

The  inquiry,  what  makes  vegetables  the  same  in  the 
common  acceptation  of  the  word,  does  not  appear  to 
have  any  relation  to  this  of  personal  identity  ;  because, 
the  word  same,  when  applied  to  them  and  to  person,  is 
not  only  applied  to  different  subjects,  but  it  is  also  used 
in  different  senses.  For  when  a  man  swears  to  the  same 
tree,  as  having  stood  fifty  years  in  the  same  place,  he 
means  only  the  same  as  to  all  the  purposes  of  property 
and  uses  of  common  life,  and  not  that  the  tree  has  been 
all  that  time  the  same  in  the  strict  philosophical  sense  of 
the  word.  For  he  does  not  know,  whether  any  one 
particle  of  the  present  tree  be  the  same  with  any  one 
particle  of  tlo  tree  which  stood  in  the  same  place  fifty 
years  ago.  And  if  they  have  not  one  common  particle 
of  matter,  they  cannot  be  the  same  tree  in  the  proper 
])liih)so})hic  sense  of  the  word  smnc  :  it  being  evidently  a 
contradiction  in  terms,  to  say  they  are,  when  no  part  of 


Diss.  T.] 


OF  PERSONAL  IDENTITY. 


299 


their  substance,  and  no  one  of  their  properties  is  the 
same  :  no  part  of  their  subst  ince,  by  the  su[)position  ;  no 
one  of  their  properties,  because  it  is  allowed,  that  the 
same  property  cannot  be  transferred  from  one  substance 
to  another.  And  therefore  when  we  say  the  identity  or 
sameness  of  a  plant  consists  m  a  continuation  of  the 
same  life,  communicated  under  the  same  organization,  to 
a  number  of  particles  of  matter,  whether  the  same  or 
not;  the  word  same,  when  applied  to  life  and  to  organi- 
zation, cannot  possibly  be  understood  to  signify,  what  it 
signifies  in  this  very  sentence,  when  applied  to  matter. 
In  a  loose  and  popular  sense  then,  the  lite  and  the  orga- 
nization and  the  plant  are  justly  said  to  be  the  same, 
notwithstanding  the  perpetual  change  of  the  parts.  But 
in  a  strict  and  philosophical  manner  of  speech,  no  man, 
no  being,  no  mode  of  being,  no  anything,  can  be  the 
same  with  that,  with  which  it  has  indeed  nothing  the 
same.  Now  sameness  is  used  in  this  latter  sense,  when 
applied  to  persons.  The  identity  of  these,  therefore, 
cannot  subsist  with  diversity  of  substance. 

The  thing  here  considered,  and  demonstratively,  as  I 
think,  determined,  is  proposed  by  Mr  Locke  in  these 
words,  IVhetJier  it,  i.  e.  the  same  self  or  person,  be  the 
same  identical  substance?  And  he  has  suggested  what  is 
a  much  better  answer  to  the  question,  than  that  which 
he  gives  it  in  form.  For  he  defines  Person,  a  thinking 
intelUii^tmt  beinir^  &c.,  and  personal  identity,  the  sameness 
of  a  rational  Being. ^  The  question  then  is,  whether  the 
same  rational  being  is  the  same  substance  :  which  needs 
no  answer,  because  Being  and  Substance,  in  this  place, 
stand  for  the  same  idea.  The  ground  of  the  doubt, 
whether  the  same  person  be  the  same  substance,  is  said 
to  be  this  ;  that  the  consciousness  of  our  own  existence, 
in  youth  and  in  old  age,  or  in  any  two  joint  successive 
moments,  is  not  the  same  indiridual  action,]  i.  e.  not  the 
same  consciousness,  but  dilierent  successive  conscious- 
nesses. Now  it  is  strange  that  this  shouUl  have  occa- 
sioned such  ])erplcxities.  For  it  is  surely  conceival)le, 
that  a  person  may  have  a  capacitv  of  knowing  some 
object  or  other  to  be  the  same  now,  which  it  was  w  hen  he 

♦  Locke  s  Works,  vol.  i.  p.  14G.  f  l^otl^c,  j'.  I4G,  147. 


300 


OF  PERSONAL  IDENTITY. 


[Diss,  I. 


contemplated  it  formerly :  yet  in  this  case,  where,  by  the 
supposition,  the  object  is  perceived  to  be  the  same,  the 
perception  of  it  in  any  two  moments  cannot  be  one  and 
the  same  perception.  And  thus,  though  the  successive 
consciousnesses,  which  we  have  of  our  own  existence, 
are  not  the  same,  yet  are  they  consciousnesses  of  one 
and  the  same  thing  or  object;  of  the  same  person,  self, 
or  living  agent.  The  person,  of  whose  existence  the 
consciousness  is  felt  now,  and  was  felt  an  hour  or  a  year 
ago,  is  discerned  to  be,  not  two  persons,  but  one  and  the 
same  person  ;  and  therefore  is  one  and  the  same. 

Mr  Locke's  observations  upon  this  subject  appear 
hasty :  and  he  seems  to  profess  himself  dissatisfied  with 
suppositions,  which  he  has  made  relating  to  it.*  But 
some  of  those  hasty  observations  have  been  carried  to  a 
strange  length  by  others  ;  whose  notion,  when  traced  and 
examined  to  the  bottom,  amounts,  I  think,  to  this  :f 

That  Personality  is  not  a  permanent,  but  a  transient 
thing  :  that  it  lives  and  dies,  begins  and  ends  continually  : 
that  no  one  can  any  more  remain  one  and  the  same  per- 
son two  moments  too^ether,  than  two  successive  moments 
can  be  one  and  the  same  moment :  that  our  substance  is 
indeed  continually  changing  ;  but  whether  this  be  so  or 
not,  is,  it  seems,  nothing  to  the  purpose  ;  since  it  is  not 
substance,  but  consciousness  alone,  which  constitutes 
personality  :  which  consciousness,  being  successive,  can- 
not be  the  same  in  any  two  moments,  nor  consequently 
the  personality  constituted  by  it."  And  from  hence  it 
must  follow,  that  it  is  a  fallacy  upon  ourselves,  to  charge 
our  present  selves  with  any  thing  we  did,  or  to  imagine 
our  present  selves  interested  in  any  thing  which  befell 
us  yesterday;  or  that  our  present  self  will  be  interested 
in  what  will  befall  us  to-iuorrow  :  since  our  present  self 
is  not,  in  reality,  the  same  with  the  self  of  yesterday,  but 
another  like  self  or  person  coming  in  its  room,  and  mis- 
taken for  it;  to  which  another  self  will  succeed  to-mor- 
row. This,  I  say,  must  follow  :  for  if  the  self  or  person 
of  to-day,  and  that  of  to-morrow,  are  not  the  same,  but 

•  Lncko,  p.  1.02. 

f  See  an  Answer  to  Dr  Clarke's  '1  liird  Defence  of  his  LcUcr  to  Mr  DodwclU 
2d  edit.  p.  4-4,  56,  &c. 


Eiss.  I.] 


OF  PERSONAL  IDENTITY. 


301 


only  like  persons;  the  person  of  to-day  is  really  no  more 
interested  in  what  ^vill  befall  the  person  of  to  morrow, 
than  in  what  will  befall  any  other  person.  It  may  be 
thought,  perhaps,  that  this  is  not  a  just  representation  of 
the  opinion  we  are  speaking  of :  because  those  who  main- 
tain it  allow,  that  a  person  is  the  same  as  far  back  as  his 
remembrance  reaches.  And  indeed  they  do  use  the 
words,  identitij,  and  same  person.  Nor  will  language  per- 
mit these  words  to  be  laid  aside  ;  since  if  they  were, 
there  must  be  I  know  not  what  ridiculous  periphrasis 
substituted  in  the  room  of  them.  But  they  cannot  con- 
sistently with  themselves,  mean,  that  the  person  is  really 
the  same.  For  it  is  self-evident,  that  the  personality 
cannot  be  really  the  same,  if,  as  they  expressly  assert, 
that  in  which  it  consists  is  not  the  same.  And  as,  con- 
sistently with  themselves,  they  cannot,  so,  I  think  it  ap- 
pears, they  do  not,  mean,  that  the  person  is  really  the 
same,  but  only  that  he  is  so  in  a  fictitious  sense  :  in  such 
a  sense  only  as  they  assert,  for  this  they  do  assert,  that 
any  number  of  persons  whatever  may  be  the  same  per- 
son. The  bare  unfolding  this  notion,  and  laying  it  thus 
naked  and  open,  seems  the  best  confutation  of  it.  How- 
ever, since  great  stress  is  said  to  be  put  upon  it,  I  add 
the  followintr  thino^s. 

Firsts  This  notion  is  absolutely  contradictory  to  that 
certain  conviction,  which  necessarily  and  every  moment 
rises  within  us,  when  we  turn  our  thouj^hts  upon  our- 
selves, when  we  reflect  upon  what  is  past,  and  look  for- 
ward upon  what  is  to  come.  All  imagination  of  a  daily 
change  of  that  living  agent  which  each  man  calls  himself, 
for  another,  or  of  any  such  change  throughout  our  whole 
present  life,  is  entirely  borne  down  by  our  natural  sense 
of  things.  Nor  is  it  possible  for  a  person  in  his  wits  to 
alter  his  conduct,  with  regard  to  his  health  or  affairs, 
from  a  suspicion,  that,  though  he  should  live  to-morrow, 
he  should  not,  however,  be  the  same  person  he  is  to-day. 
And  yet,  if  it  be  reasonable  to  act,  with  respect  to  a 
future  life,  upon  this  notion,  that  personality  is  transient; 
it  is  reasonable  to  act  upon  it,  with  resjxH-t  to  the  pre- 
sent. Ih're  then  is  a  notion  equally  applicable  to  reli- 
gion and  to  our  temporal  concerns  ;  and  every  one  sees 


\ 


302  OF  PERSONAL  IDENTITY.  [Diss.  I 

and  feels  the  inexpressible  absurdity  of  it  in  the  latter 
case  ;  if,  therefore,  any  can  take  up  with  it  in  the  former, 
this  cannot  proceed  from  the  reason  of  the  thing,  but 
must  be  owing  to  an  inward  unfairness,  and  secret  cor- 
ruption of  heart. 

Secondlyy  It  is  not  an  idea,  or  abstract  notion,  or  qua- 
lity, but  a  being  only,  which  is  capable  of  life  and  action, 
of  happiness  and  misery.  Now  all  beings  confessedly 
continue  the  same,  during  the  whole  time  of  their  exis- 
tence. Consider  then  a  living  being  now  existing,  and 
which  has  existed  for  any  time  a'ive  :  this  living  being 
must  have  done  and  suffered  and  enjoyed,  what  it  has 
done  and  suffered  and  enjoyed  formerly  (this  living  be- 
ing, I  say,  and  not  another),  as  really  as  it  does  and  suf- 
fers and  enjoys,  what  it  does  and  suffers  and  enjoys  this 
instant.  All  these  successive  actions,  enjoyments,  and 
sufferings,  are  actions,  enjoyments,  and  sufferings,  of  the 
same  living  being,  /ind  they  are  so,  prior  to  all  consi- 
deration of  its  remembering  or  forgetting  :  since  remem- 
berintr  or  fornrettinor  can  make  no  alteration  in  the  truth 
of  past  matter  of  fact.  And  suppose  this  being  endued 
with  limited  powers  of  knowledge  and  memory,  there  is 
no  more  difficulty  in  conceiving  it  to  have  a  powder  of 
knowing  itself  to  be  the  same  living  being  which  it  was 
some  time  ago,  of  remembering  some  of  its  actions,  suf- 
ferings, and  enjoyments,  and  forgetting  others,  than  in 
conceiving  it  to  know  or  remember  or  forget  any  thing 
else. 

Thirdlij^  Every  person  is  conscious,  that  he  is  now 
the  same  person  or  self  he  was  as  far  back  as  his  re- 
membrance reaches  :  since  when  any  one  reflects  upon 
a  past  action  of  his  own,  he  is  just  as  certain  of  the  per- 
son who  did  that  action,  namely,  himself,  the  person 
who  now  reflects  upon  it,  as  he  is  certain  that  the  action 
was  at  all  done.  Nay,  very  often  a  person's  assurance 
of  an  action  having  been  done,  of  which  he  is  absolutely 
assured,  arises  wholly  from  the  consciousness  that  he 
himself  did  it.  And  this  he,  person,  or  self,  must  either 
be  a  substance,  cr  the  i)roperty  of  some  substance.  If 
he,  if  person,  be  a  substance  ;  then  consciousness  that  he 
is  the  same  person  is  consciousness  that  he  is  the  same 


Diss.  II.] 


OF  THE  NATURE  OF  VIRTUE. 


303 


substance.  If  the  person,  or  he,  be  the  property  of  a 
substance,  still  consciousness  that  he  is  the  same  pro- 
perty is  as  certain  a  proof  that  his  substance  remains  the 
same,  as  consciousness  that  he  remains  the  same  sub- 
stance would  be  :  since  the  same  property  cannot  be 
transferred  from  one  substance  to  another. 

But  though  we  are  thus  certain,  that  we  are  the  same 
agents,  living  beings,  or  substances,  now,  which  we  were 
as  far  back  as  our  remembrance  reaches;  yet  it  is  asked, 
whether  we  may  not  possibly  be  deceived  in  it?  And 
this  question  may  be  asked  at  the  end  of  any  demonstra- 
tion whatever:  because  it  is  a  question  concerning  the 
truth  of  perception  by  memory.  And  he  who  can  doubt, 
whether  perception  by  memory  can  in  this  case  be  de- 
pended upon,  may  doubt  also,  whether  perception  by 
deduction  and  reasoning,  which  also  include  memory,  or 
indeed  whether  intuitive  perception  can.  Here  then  we 
can  go  no  further.  For  it  is  ridiculous  to  attempt  to  prove 
the  truth  of  those  perceptions,  whose  truth  we  can  no 
otherwise  prove,  than  by  other  perceptions  of  exactly 
the  same  kind  with  them,  and  which  there  is  just  the 
same  ground  to  suspect;  or  to  attempt  to  prove  the  truth 
of  our  faculties,  which  can  no  otherwise  be  proved,  than 
by  the  use  or  means  of  those  very  suspected  faculties 
themselves. 


DISSERTATION  II. 

OF  THE  NATURE  OF  VIRTUE. 

That  which  renders  beings  capable  of  moral  gov(^rn- 
ment,  is  their  having  a  moral  nature,  and  moral  faculties 
of  percej)ti()n  and  of  action.  Brute  creatures  are  impress- 
ed and  actuated  by  various  instincts  and  proj)ensi()ns  :  so 
also  are  we.  But  additional  to  this,  we  have  a  ca})acity 
of  rt^tlectiiig  uj)()n  actions  and  characters,  and  making 
them  an  object  to  our  thought:  and  on  doing  this,  we 
naturally  and  unavoidably  approve  some  actions,  under  the 
peculiar  view  of  their  bciiiii  virtuous  and  of  good  desert; 


304 


OF  THE  NATURE  OF  VIRTUE. 


[Diss.  II. 


and  disapprove  others,  as  vicious  and  of  ill  desert.  That 
we  have  this  moral  approving  and  disapproving*  faculty, 
is  certain  from  our  experiencing  it  in  ourselves,  and  recog- 
nizing it  in  each  other.  It  appears  from  our  exercising  it 
unavoidably,  in  the  approbation  and  disapprobation  even 
of  feigned  characters  :  from  the  words  right  and  wrong, 
odious  and  amiable,  base  and  worthy,  with  many  others 
of  like  signification  in  all  languages  applied  to  actions  and 
characters  :  from  the  many  written  systems  of  morals 
which  suppose  it;  since  it  cannot  be  imagined,  that  all 
these  authors,  throughout  all  these  treatises,  had  abso- 
lutely no  meaning  at  all  to  their  words,  or  a  meaning 
merely  chimerical :  from  our  natural  sense  of  gratitude, 
which  implies  a  distinction  between  merely  being  the 
instrument  of  good,  and  intending  it:  from  the  like  dis- 
tinction every  one  makes  between  injury  and  mere  harm, 
which,  Hobbes  says,  is  peculiar  to  mankind  ;  and  between 
injury  and  just  punishment,  a  distinction  plainly  natural, 
prior  to  the  consideration  of  human  laws.  It  is  manifest 
great  partf  of  common  language,  and  of  common  beha- 
viour over  the  world,  is  formed  upon  supposition  of  such 
a  moral  faculty;  whether  called  conscience,  moral  reason, 
moral  sense,  or  divine  reason  ;  whether  considered  as  a 
sentiment  of  the  understanding,  or  as  a  perception  of 
the  heart ;  or,  which  seems  the  truth,  as  including  both. 
Nor  is  it  at  all  doubtful  in  the  general,  what  course  of 
action  this  faculty,  or  practical  discerning  power  within 
us,  approves  and  what  it  disapproves.  For,  as  much  as 
it  has  been  disputed  wherein  virtue  consists,  or  whatever 
ground  for  doubt  there  may  be  about  particulars  ;  yet,  in 
general,  there  is  in  reality  a  universally  acknowledged 
standard  of  it.  It  is  that,  which  all  ages  and  all  coun- 
tries have  made  profe^-sion  of  in  public:  it  is  that,  which 
every  man  you  meet  })uts  on  the  show  of:  it  is  that, 

*  This  way  of  s-|.M'akirn;  is  taken  from  Epictetus,  f  and  is  made  use  of  as  seeminij 
the  most  full,  and  least  liahle  to  cavil.  An<i  the  moral  (acuity  may  he  understood  to 
have  lliese  two  epithets,  ^tKif^uirTtKii  and  uTodeKifiuirTtKr),  upon  a  douhle  arcoutit;  he- 
cause,  upon  a  survey  of  actions,  whether  Iji  fort;  or  after  they  are  done,  it  determines 
them  to  he  ti^ood  or  evil;  ami  also  hecause  it  determines  itsell  to  he  the  truide  of  ac- 
tion aiifl  of  life,  in  contradistinc  tion  from  all  other  faculties,  or  natural  principles  of 
action  ;  in  the  very  same  manner  ns  speculative  reason  directhj  and  iialurallv  judiie* 
of  speculative  truth  and  f.il.-ehood ;  and  at  the  same  time  is  attendi-d  wiili  a  cuubcious- 
nesb  upon  re/lection,  that  the  natural  ri'.'lit  to  jiulL'e  ol  them  belongs  to  it* 
f  Arr.  Epict.  lib.  i.  caj).  I. 


Diss.  II.]  OP  THE  NATURE  OF  VIRTUE.  305 

which  the  primary  and  fundamental  laws  of  all  civil  con- 
stitutions over  the  face  of  the  earth  make  it  their  business 
and  endeavour  to  enforce  the  practice  of  upon  mankind : 
namely  justice,  veracity,  and  regard  to  common  good. 
It  being  manifest  then,  in  general,  that  we  have  such  a 
faculty  or  discernment  as  this,  it  may  be  of  use  to  remark 
some  things  more  distinctly  concerning  it. 

First,  It  ought  to  be  observed,  that  the  object  of  this 
faculty  is  actions,*  comprehending  under  that  name  active 
or  practical  principles :  those  principles  from  which  men 
would  act,  if  occasions  and  circumstances  gave  them 
power;  and  which,  when  fixed  and  habitual  in  any  per- 
son, we  call  his  character.  It  does  not  appear,  that 
brutes  have  the  least  reflex  sense  of  actions,  as  distin- 
guished from  events :  or  that  will  and  design,  which 
constitute  the  very  nature  of  actions  as  such,  are  at  all 
an  object  to  their  perception.  But  to  ours  they  are:  and 
they  are  the  object,  and  the  only  one,  of  the  approving 
and  disapproving  faculty.  Acting  conduct,  behaviour, 
abstracted  from  all  regard  to  what  is  in  fact  and  event, 
the  consequence  of  it,  is  itself  the  natural  object  of  the 
moral  discernment ;  as  speculative  truth  and  falsehood 
is  of  speculative  reason.  Intention  of  such  and  such 
consequences,  indeed,  is  always  included;  for  it  is  part 
of  the  action  itself:  but  though  the  intended  good  or  bad 
consequences  do  not  follow,  we  have  exactly  the  same 
sense  of  the  action  as  if  they  did.  In  like  manner  we 
think  well  or  ill  of  characters,  abstracted  from  all  con- 
sideration of  the  good  or  the  evil,  which  persons  of 
such  characters  have  it  actually  in  their  power  to  do. 
We  never,  in  the  moral  way,  applaud  or  blame  either 
ourselves  or  others,  for  what  we  enjoy  or  what  we  suffer, 
or  for  having  impressions  made  upon  us  which  we  con- 
sider as  altogether  out  of  our  power:  but  only  for  what 
we  do,  or  would  have  done,  had  it  been  in  our  power: 
or  for  what  we  leave  undone,  which  we  might  have 
done,  or  would  have  left  undone,  though  we  could  have 
done  it. 

Secondly,  Our  sense  or  discernment  of  actions  a$ 

*  Olli  h  «(if^  %mi  itmmU  —  it  vkVu,  &XXet  Ui^ytm,  M.  AntOO.  lib.  ix.  16.  ViltuUl 

Isu  oiunis  ki  actione  consistit.    Cic  Off.  lib.  i.  cap.  6. 

U 


306  OF  THE  NATURE  OF  VIRTUE.  [Diss.IL 

morally  good  or  evil,  implies  in' it  a  sense  or  discem- 
^ '  ment  of  them  as  of  good  or  ill  discernments  It  may  be 
difficult  to  explain  this  perception,  so  as  to  answer  all 
the  questions  which  may  be  asked  concerning  it:  but 
every  one  speaks  of  such  and  such  actions  as  deserving 
punishment;  and  it  is  not,  I  suppose,  pretended,  that 
they  have  absolutely  no  meaning  at  all  to  the  expres- 
sion. Now  the  meaning  plainly  is  not,  that  we  conceive 
it  for  the  good  of  society,  that  the  doer  of  such  actions 
should  be  made  to  suffer.  For  if,  unhappily,  it  were 
resolved,  that  a  man,  who,  by  some  innocent  action, 
was  infected  with  the  plague,  should  be  left  to  perish, 
lest,  by  other  people's  coming  near  him,  the  infection 
should  spread ;  no  one  would  say  he  deserved  this  treat- 
ment. Innocence  and  ill  desert  are  inconsistent  ideas. 
Ill  desert  always  supposes  guilt:  and  if  one  be  no  part 
of  the  other,  yet  they  are  evidently  and  naturally  con- 
nected in  our  mind.  The  sight  of  a  man  in  misery 
raises  our  compassion  towards  him ;  and,  if  this  misery  be 
inflicted  on  him  by  another,  our  indignation  against  the 
author  of  it.  But  when  we  are  informed,  that  the  suf- 
ferer is  a  villain,  and  is  punished  only  for  his  treachery 
or  cruelty;  our  compassion  exceedingly  lessens,  and  in 
many  instances  our  indignation  wholly  subsides.  Now 
what  produces  this  effect  is  the  conception  of  that  in  the 
sufferer,  which  we  call  ill  desert.  Upon  considering 
then,  or  viewing  together,  our  notion  of  vice  and  that  of 
misery,  there  results  a  third,  that  of  ill  desert.  And 
thus  there  is  in  human  creatures  an  association  of  the 
two  ideas,  natural  and  moral  evil,  wickedness  and 
punishment.  If  this  association  were  merely  artificial 
or  accidental,  it  were  nothing:  but  being  most  unques- 
tionably natural,  it  greatly  concerns  us  to  attend  to  it, 
instead  of  endeavouring  to  explain  it  away. 

It  may  be  observed  further,  concerning  our  percep- 
tion of  good  and  of  ill  desert,  that  the  former  is  very 
weak  with  respect  to  common  instances  of  virtue.  One 
reason  of  which  may  be,  that  it  does  not  appear  to  a 
spectator,  how  far  such  instances  of  virtue  proceed  from 
a  virtuous  principle,  or  in  what  degree  this  principle  is 
prevalent:  since  a  very  weak  regard  to  virtue  may  be 


rtsB.n.]  OF  THE  NATURE  OF  VIRTUE.  307 

sufficient  to  make  men  act  well  in  many  common  in- 
stances. And  on  the  other  hand,  our  perception  of  ill 
desert  in  vicious  actions  lessens,  in  proportion  to  the 
temptations  men  are  thought  to  have  had  to  such  vices. 
For,  vice  in  human  creatures  consisting  chiefly  in  the 
absence  or  want  of  the  virtuous  principle;  though  a  man 
be  overcome,  suppose,  by  tortures,  it  does  not  from 
thence  appear  to  what  degree  the  virtuous  principle  was 
wanting.  All  that  appears  is,  that  he  had  it  not  in  such 
a  degree,  as  to  prevail  over  the  temptation ;  but  possibly 
he  had  it  in  a  degree,  which  would  have  rendered  him 
proof  against  common  temptations. 

Thirdly,  Our  perception  of  vice  and  ill  desert  arises 
from,  and  is  the  result  of,  a  comparison  of  actions  with 
the  nature  and  capacities  of  the  agent.  For  the  mere 
neglect  of  doing  what  we  ought  to  do,  would,  in  many 
cases,  be  determined  by  all  men  to  be  in  the  highest 
degree  vicious.  And  this  determination  must  arise  from 
such  comparison,  and  be  the  result  of  it;  because  such 
neglect  would  not  be  vicious  in  creatures  of  other  na- 
tures and  capacities,  as  brutes.  And  it  is  the  same 
also  with  respect  to  positive  vices,  or  such  as  consist  in 
doing  what  we  ought  not.  For,  every  one  has  a  dif- 
ferent sense  of  harm  done  by  an  idiot,  madman,  or  child, 
and  by  one  of  mature  and  common  understanding ; 
though  the  action  of  both,  including  the  intention,  which 
is  part  of  the  action,  be  the  same:  as  it  may  be,  since 
idiots  and  madmen,  as  well  as  children,  are  capable  not 
only  of  doing  mischief,  but  also  of  intending  it.  Now 
this  difference  must  arise  from  somewhat  discerned  in 
the  nature  or  capacities  of  one,  which  renders  the  action 
vicious;  and  the  want  of  which,  in  the  other,  renders 
the  same  action  innocent  or  less  vicious:  and  this  plainly 
supposes  a  comparison,  whether  reflected  upon  or  not, 
between  the  action  and  capacities  of  the  agent,  previous 
to  our  determining  an  action  to  be  vicious.  And  licnce 
arises  a  proper  application  of  the  epithets,  incongruous, 
unsuitable,  disproportionate,  unfit,  to  actions  which  our 
moral  faculty  determines  to  be  vicious. 

Fourthly,  It  deserves  to  be  considered,  whether  men 
are  more  at  liberty,  in  point  of  morals,  to  make  them- 


308  OF  THE  NATURE  OF  VIRTUE.  [DiS8.n 

selves  miserable  without  reason,  than  to  make  other 
people  so:  or  dissolutely  to  neglect  their  own  greater 
good,  for  the  sake  of  a  present  lesser  gratification,  than 
they  are  to  neglect  the  good  of  others,  whom  nature  has 
committed  to  their  care.  It  should  seem,  that  a  due 
concern  about  our  own  interest  or  happiness,  and  a  rea- 
sonable endeavour  to  secure  and  promote  it,  which  is,  I 
think,  very  much  the  meaning  of  the  word  prudence,  in 
our  language ;  it  should  seem,  that  this  is  virtue,  and  the 
contrary  behaviour  faulty  and  blamable;  since,  in  the 
calmest  way  of  reflection,  we  approve  of  the  first,  and 
condemn  the  other  conduct,  both  in  ourselves  and  others. 
This  approbation  and  disapprobation  are  altogether  dif- 
ferent from  mere  desire  of  our  own,  or  of  their  happi- 
ness, and  from  sorrow  upon  missing  it.  For  the  object 
or  occasion  of  this  last  kind  of  perception  is  satisfaction 
or  uneasiness:  whereas  the  object  of  the  first  is  active 
behaviour.  In  one  case,  what  our  thoughts  fix  upon 
is  our  condition :  in  the  other,  our  conduct.  It  is  true 
indeed,  that  nature  has  not  given  us  so  sensible  a  dis- 
approbation of  imprudence  and  folly,  either  in  ourselves 
or  others  J  as  of  falsehood,  injustice,  and  cruelty :  I  sup- 
pose, because  that  constant  habitual  sense  of  private  in- 
terest and  good,  which  we  always  carry  about  with  us, 
renders  such  sensible  disapprobation  less  necessary,  less 
wanting,  to  keep  us  from  imprudently  neglecting  our 
own  happiness,  and  foolishly  injuring  ourselves,  than  it 
is  necessary  and  wanting  to  keep  us  from  injuring  others, 
to  whose  good  we  cannot  have  so  strong  and  constant  a 
regard:  and  also  because  imprudence  and  folly,  appear- 
ing to  bring  its  own  punishment  more  immediately  and 
constantly  than  injurious  behaviour,  it  less  needs  the  ad- 
ditional punishment,  which  would  be  inflicted  upon  it 
by  others,  had  they  the  same  sensible  indignation 
against  it,  as  against  injustice,  and  fraud,  and  cruelty. 
Besides,  unhappiness  l)eing  in  itself  the  natural  object 
of  compassion;  the  unhappiness  which  people  bring  up- 
on themselves,  though  it  be  wilfully,  excites  in  us  some 
pity  for  them :  and  this  of  course  lessens  our  displeasure 
against  them.  But  still  it  is  matter  of  experience,  that 
we  are  formed  so  as  to  reflect  very  severelv  upon  the 


Diss.  II.]  OF  THE  NATURE  OF  VIRTUE.  SOQ 

greater  instances  of  imprudent  neglect  and  foolish  rash- 
ness, both  in  ourselves  and  others.  In  instances  of  this 
kind,  men  often  say  of  themselves  with  remorse,  and  of 
others  with  some  indignation,  that  they  deserved  to  suf- 
fer such  calamities,  because  they  brought  them  upon 
themselves,  and  would  not  take  warning.  Particularly 
when  persons  come  to  poverty  and  distress  by  a  long 
course  of  extravagance,  and  after  frequent  admonitions, 
though  without  falsehood  or  injustice  ;  we  plainly,  do  not 
regard  such  people  as  alike  objects  of  compassion  with 
those,  who  are  brought  into  the  same  condition  by  una- 
voidable accidents.  From  these  things  it  appears,  that 
prudence  is  a  species  of  virtue,  and  folly  of  vice :  mean- 
ing by  foil]/,  somewhat  quite  different  from  mere  inca- 
pacity ;  a  thoughtless  want  of  that  regard  and  attention 
to  our  own  happiness,  which  we  had  capacity  for.  And 
this  the  word  properly  includes  ;  and,  as  it  seems,  in  its 
usual  acceptation  :  for  we  scarcely  apply  it  to  brute  crea- 
tures. 

However,  if  any  person  be  disposed  to  dispute  the 
matter,  I  shall  very  willingly  give  him  up  the  words 
Virtue  and  Vice,  as  not  appUcable  to  prudence  and  fol- 
ly: but  must  beg  leave  to  insist,  that  the  faculty  within 
us,  which  is  the  judge  of  actions,  approves  of  prudent 
actions,  and  disapproves  imprudent  ones:  I  say  prudent 
and  imprudent  actions  as  such,  and  considered  distinctly 
from  the  happiness  or  misery  which  they  occasion. 
And,  by  the  way,  this  observation  may  help  to  deter- 
mine what  justness  there  is  in  that  objection  against  re- 
ligion, that  it  teaches  us  to  be  interested  and  selfish. 

Fifthly f  Without  inquiring  how  far,  and  in  what  sense, 
virtue  is  resolvable  into  benevolence,  and  vice  into  the 
want  of  it;  it  maybe  proper  to  observe,  that  benevo- 
lence, and  the  want  of  it,  singly  considered,  are  in  no 
sort  the  whole  of  virtue  and  vice.  For  if  this  were  the 
case,  in  the  review  of  one's  own  character,  or  that  of 
others,  our  moral  understanding  and  moral  sense  would 
be  indifferent  to  every  thing,  but  the  degrees  in  which 
benevolence  prevailed,  and  the  degrees  in  whicli  it  was 
wanting.  That  is,  we  should  neither  approve  of  bene- 
volence to  some  persons  rather  than  to  others,  nor  dis- 


310  OF  THE  NATURE  OF  VIRTUE.  [Diss.  n. 

approve  injustice  and  falsehood  upon  any  other  account, 
than  merely  as  an  overbalance  of  happiness  was  fore- 
seen Hkely  to  be  produced  by  the  first,  and  of  misery 
by  the  second.  But  now,  on  the  contrary,  suppose  two 
men  competitors  for  any  thing  whatever,  which  would 
be  of  equal  advantage  to  each  of  them;  though  nothing 
indeed  would  be  more  impertinent,  than  for  a  stranger 
to  busy  himself  to  get  one  of  them  preferred  to  the 
other;  yet  such  endeavour  would  be  virtue,  in  behalf  of 
a  friend  or  benefactor,  abstracted  from  all  consideration 
of  distant  consequence:  as  that  examples  of  gratitude, 
and  the  cultivation  of  friendship,  would  be  of  general 
good  to  the  world.  Again,  suppose  one  man  should, 
by  fraud  or  violence^  take  from  another  the  fruit  of  his 
labour,  with  intent  to  give  it  to  a  third,  who  he  thought 
would  have  as  much  pleasure  from  it  as  would  balance 
the  pleasure  which  the  first  possessor  would  have  had 
in  the  enjoyment,  and  his  vexation  in  the  loss  of  it; 
suppose  also  that  no  bad  consequences  would  follow: 
yet  such  an  action  would  surely  be  vicious.  Nay, 
further,  were  treachery,  violence,  and  injustice,  no 
otherwise  vicious,  than  as  foreseen  likely  to  produce  an 
overbalance  of  misery  to  society;  then,  if  in  any  case  a 
man  could  procure  to  himself  as  great  advantage  by  an 
act  of  injustice,  as  the  whole  foreseen  inconvenience, 
likely  to  be  brought  upon  others  by  it,  would  amount 
to;  such  a  piece  of  injustice  would  not  be  faulty  or 
vicious  at  all:  because  it  would  be  no  more  than,  in  any 
other  case,  for  a  man  to  prefer  his  own  satisfaction  to 
another's  in  equal  degrees.  The  fact,  then,  appears  to 
be,  that  we  are  constituted  so  as  to  condemn  falsehood, 
unprovoked  violence,  injustice,  and  to  approve  of  bene- 
volence to  some  preferably  to  others,  abstracted  from  all 
consideration,  which  conduct  is  likeliest  to  produce  an 
overbalance  of  happiness  or  misery.  And  therefore, 
were  the  Author  of  nature  to  propose  nothing  to  himself 
as  an  end  but  the  production  of  happiness,  were  his 
moral  character  merely  that  of  benevolence;  yet  ours  is 
not  so.  Upon  that  supposition  indeed,  the  only  reason 
of  his  giving  us  the  above  mentioned  approbation  of 
benevolence  to  some  persons  rather  than  others,  and 


£>Bg.  n.]  OP  THE  NATURE  OP  VITITUS.  811 

disapprobation  of  falsehood,  unprovoked  violence,  and 
injustice,  must  be,  that  he  foresaw  this  constitution  of 
our  nature  would  produce  more  happiness,  than  forming 
us  with  a  temper  of  mere  general  benevolence.  But 
, still,  since  this  is  our  constitution;  falsehood,  violence, 
injustice,  must  be  vice  in  us,  and  benevolence  to  some, 
preferably  to  others,  \drtue;  abstracted  from  all  consi- 
deration of  the  overbalance  of  evil  or  good,  which  they 
may  appear  likely  to  produce. 

Now  if  human  creatures  are  endued  with  such  a  moral 
nature  as  we  have  been  explaining,  or  wi^Ji  a  moral 
faculty,  the  natural  object  of  which  is  actions:  moral 
government  must  consist  in  rendering  them  happy  and 
unhappy,  in  rewarding  and  punishing  them,  as  they* 
follow,  neglect,  or  depart  from,  the  moral  rule  of  action 
interwoven  in  their  nature,  or  suggested  and  enforced 
by  this  moral  faculty  ;*  in  rewarding  and  punishing  them 
upon  account  of  their  so  doing. 

I  am  not  sensible  that  I  have,  in  this  fifth  observa- 
tion, contradicted  what  any  author  designed  to  assert. 
But  some  of  great  and  distinguished  merit,  have,  I  think, 
expressed  themselves  in  a  manner,  which  may  occasion 
some  danger,  to  careless  readers,  of  imagining  the  whole 
of  virtue  to  consist  in  singly  aiming,  according  to  the 
best  of  their  judgment,  at  promoting  the  happiness  of 
mankind  in  the  present  state ;  and  the  whole  of  vice,  in 
doing  what  they  foresee,  or  might  foresee,  is  likely  to 
produce  an  overbalance  of  unhappiness  in  it:  than  which 
mistakes,  none  can  be  conceived  more  terrible.  For  it 
is  certain,  that  some  of  the  most  shocking  instances  of 
injustice,  adulter}^  murder,  peijury,  and  even  of  perse- 
cution, may,  in  many  supposable  cases,  not  have  the 
appearance  of  being  likely  to  produce  an  overbalance  of 
misery  in  the  present  state;  perhaps  sometimes  may 
have  the  contrary  appearance.  For  this  reflection  might 
easily  be  carried  on,  but  I  forbear. — The  happiness  of 
the  world  is  the  concern  of  him  who  is  the  lord  and  the 
proprietor  of  it:  nor  do  we  know  what  we  arc  about, 
when  we  endeavour  to  promote  the  good  of  mankind  in 
any  ways,  but  those  which  he  has  directed;   thai  is 

•  p.  145. 


812  OF  THE  NATURE  OF  VIRTUE.  [Diss.  IT* 

indeed  in  all  ways  not  contrary  to  veracity  and  justice. 
I  speak  thus  upon  supposition  of  persons  really  endea- 
vouring, in  some  sort,  to  do  good  without  regard  to 
these.  But  the  truth  seems  to  be,  that  such  supposed 
endeavours  proceed,  almost  always,  from  ambition,  the 
spirit  of  party,  or  some  indirect  principle,  concealed 
perhaps  in  great  measure  from  persons  themselves. 
And  though  it  is  our  business  and  our  duty  to  endea- 
vour, within  the  bounds  of  veracity  and  justice,  to  con- 
tribute to  the  ease,  convenience,  and  even  cheerfulness 
and  diversion  of  our  fellow  creatures:  yet,  from  our 
short  views,  it  is  greatly  uncertain,  whether  this  endea- 
vour will,  in  particular  instances,  produce  an  overbalance 
of  happiness  upon  the  whole ;  since  so  many  and  distant 
things  must  come  into  the  account.  And  that  which 
makes  it  our  duty  is,  that  there  is  some  appearance  that 
it  will,  and  no  positive  appearance  sufficient  to  balance 
this,  on  the  contrary  side ;  and  also,  that  such  benevolent 
endeavour  is  a  cultivation  of  that  most  excellent  of  all 
virtuous  principles,  the  active  principle  of  benevolence. 

However,  though  veracity,  as  well  as  justice,  is  to  be 
our  rule  of  life ;  it  must  be  added,  otherwise  a  snare  will 
be  laid  in  the  way  of  some  plain  men,  that  the  use  of 
common  forms  of  speech,  generally  understood,  cannot  be 
falsehood ;  and,  in  general,  that  there  can  be  no  designed 
falsehood  without  designing  to  deceive.  It  must  like- 
wise be  observed,  that  in  numberless  cases,  a  man  may 
be  under  the  strictest  obligations  to  what  he  foresees 
will  deceive,  without  his  intending  it.  For  it  is  impos- 
sible not  to  foresee,  that  the  words  and  actions  of  men, 
in  different  ranks  and  employments,  and  of  different 
educations,  will  perpetually  be  mistaken  by  each  other: 
and.  it  cannot  but  be  so,  whilst  they  will  judge  with  the 
utmost  carelessness,  as  they  daily  do,  of  what  they  are 
not,  perhaps,  enough  informed  to  be  competent  judges 
of,  even  though  they  considered  it  with  great  attention. 


END  OF  ANALOGY. 


SERMONS 


BY  THE 


RIGHT  REVEREND  FATHER  IN  GOD, 


JOSEPH  BUTLER,  D.C.L. 


LORD  BJSHOP  OF  DURHAM. 


NEW  YORK: 
ROBERT  CARTER,  59  CANAL  STREET. 

PITTSBURG :— THOMAS  CARTER. 
1844. 


PREFACE. 


Though  it  is  scarce  possible  to  avoid  judging,  in  some 
way  or  other,  of  almost  every  thing  which  offers  itself  to 
one's  thoughts  ;  yet  it  is  certain,  that  many  persons,  from 
different  causes,  never  exercise  their  judgment,  upon 
what  comes  before  them,  in  the  way  of  determining  whe- 
ther it  be  conclusive,  and  holds.  They  are  perhaps  enter- 
tained with  some  things,  not  so  with  others ;  they  like, 
and  they  dislike  :  but  whether  that  which  is  proposed  to 
be  made  out  be  really  made  out  or  not;  whether  a  matter 
be  stated  according  to  the  real  truth  of  the  case,  seems  to 
the  generality  of  people  merely  a  circumstance  of  no  con- 
sideration at  all.  Arguments  are  often  wanted  for  some 
accidental  purpose:  but  proof,  as  such,  is  what  they  never 
want  for  themselves  ;  for  their  own  satisfaction  of  mind, 
or  conduct  in  life.  Not  to  mention  the  multitudes  who 
read  merely  for  the  sake  of  talking,  or  to  qualify  them- 
selves for  the  world,  or  some  such  kind  of  reasons;  there 
are,  even  of  the  few  who  read  for  their  own  entertain- 
ment, and  have  a  real  curiosity  to  see  what  is  said,  seve- 
ral, which  is  prodigious,  who  have  no  sort  of  curiosity 
to  see  what  is  true:  I  say,  curiosity;  because  it  is  too  ob- 
vious to  be  mentioned,  how  much  that  religious  and  sa- 
cred attention,  vvliich  is  due  to  truth,  and  to  the  impor- 
tant question.  What  is  the  rule  of  Hfe  ?  is  lost  out  of  the 
world. 

For  the  ?ake  of  this  whole  class  of  readers,  for  they 
are  of  different  capacities,  different  kinds,  and  get  into 
this  way  from  different  occasions,  I  have  often  wished 
that  it  had  been  the  custom  to  lay  b(  fore  people  nothing 
in  matters  of  argument  but  premises,  and  leave  them  to 
draw  conclusions  themselves  ;  which,  though  it  could  not 
be  done  in  all  cases,  mi^jht  in  many. 

The  great  number  of  books  and  papers  of  amusement, 

A 


iv 


PREFACE. 


which,  of  one  kind  or  another,  daily  come  in  one's  way, 
have  in  part  occasioned,  and  most  perfectly  fall  in  with 
and  humour,  this  idle  way  of  reading  and  considering 
things.  By  this  means,  time  even  in  solitude  is  happily 
got  rid  of,  without  the  pain  of  attention :  neither  is 
any  part  of  it  more  put  to  the  account  of  idleness,  one 
can  scarce  forbear  saying,  is  spent  with  less  thought, 
than  great  part  of  that  which  is  spent  in  reading. 

Thus  people  habituate  themselves  to  let  things  pass 
through  their  minds,  as  one  may  speak,  rather  than  to 
think  of  them.  Thus  by  use  they  become  satisfied 
merely  with  seeing  what  is  said,  without  going  any  fur- 
ther. Review  and  attention,  and  even  forming  a  judg- 
ment, becomes  fatigue ;  and  to  lay  any  thing  before  them 
that  requires  it,  is  putting  them  quite  out  of  their  way. 

There  are  also  persons,  and  there  are  at  least  more 
of  them  than  have  a  right  to  claim  such  superiority,  who 
take  for  granted,  that  they  are  acquainted  with  every 
thing;  and  that  no  subject,  if  treated  in  the  manner  it 
should  be,  can  be  treated  in  any  manner  but  what  is 
familiar  and  easy  to  them. 

It  is  true  indeed,  that  few  persons  have  a  right  to  de- 
mand attention ;  but  it  is  also  true,  that  nothing  can  be 
understood  without  that  degree  of  it,  which  the  very  na- 
ture of  the  thing  requires.  Now  morals,  considered  as 
a  science,  concerning  which  speculative  difficulties  are 
daily  raised,  and  treated  with  regard  to  those  difficulties, 
plainly  require  a  very  peculiar  attention.  For  here 
ideas  never  are  in  themselves  determinate,  but  become 
so  by  the  train  of  reasoning  and  the  place  they  stand  in; 
since  it  is  impossible  that  words  can  always  stand  for 
the  same  ideas,  even  in  the  same  author,  much  less  in 
different  ones.  Hence  an  argument  may  not  readily  be 
apprehended,  which  is  different  from  its  being  mistak- 
en; and  even  caution  to  avoid  being  mistaken  may,  in 
some  cases,  render  it  less  readily  apprehended.  It  is 
very  unallowable  fo'  4  ■T^>rk  of  im&i;;ination  or  entertain- 
ment not  to  be  of  easy  comprehension,  but  may  be  una- 
voidi<l)le  in  a  work  of  another  kind,  where  a  man  is  not 
to  form  or  accommodate,  but  to  state  things  as  he  finds 
them. 


PREFACE. 


V 


It  must  be  acknowledged,  that  some  of  the  following 
Discourses  are  very  abstruse  and  difficult;  or,  if  you 
please,  obscure ;  but  1  must  take  leave  to  add,  that  those 
alone  are  judges,  whether  or  no  and  how  far  this  is  a 
fault,  who  are  judges,  whether  or  no  and  how  far  it  might 
have  been  avoided  —those  only  who  will  be  at  the  trou- 
ble to  understand  what  is  here  said,  and  to  see  how  far 
the  things  here  insisted  upon,  and  not  other  things,  might 
have  been  put  in  a  plainer  manner;  which  yet  I  am  very 
far  from  asserting  that  they  could  not. 

Thus  much  however  w^ill  be  allowed,  that  general 
criticisms  concerning  obscurity  considered  as  a  distinct 
thing  from  confusion  and  perpl  xity  of  thought,  as  in 
some  cases  there  may  be  ground  for  them ;  so  in 
others,  they  may  be  nothing  more  at  the  bottom  than 
complaints,  that  every  thing  is  not  to  be  understood  with 
the  same  ease  that  some  things  are.  Confusion  and 
perplexity  in  writing  is  indeed  without  excuse,  because 
any  one  may,  if  he  pleases,  know  whether  he  understands 
and  sees  through  what  he  is  about :  and  it  is  unpardon- 
able for  a  man  to  lay  his  thoughts  before  others,  when 
he  is  conscious  that  he  himself  does  not  know  whereabouts 
he  is,  or  how  the  matter  before  him  stands.  It  is  com- 
ing abroad  in  disorder,  w^hich  he  ought  to  be  dissatisfied 
to  find  himself  in  at  home. 

But  even  obscurities  arising  from  other  cai^cs  than 
the  abstruseness  of  the  argument  may  not  be  always 
inexcusable.  Thus  a  subject  may  be  treated  in  a  man- 
ner, which  all  along  supposes  the  reader  acquainted  with 
what  has  been  said  upon  it,  both  by  ancient  and  modern 
writers  ;  and  with  what  is  the  present  state  of  opinion  in 
the  world  concerning  such  subject.  This  will  create  a 
difficulty  of  a  very  ])eculiar  kind,  and  even  throw  an 
obscurity  over  the  whole  before  those  who  arc  not  thus 
informed  ;  but  those  who  are  will  be  disposed  to  excuse 
such  a  manner,  and  other  things  of  the  like  kind,  as  a 
saving  of  their  patience. 

However  upon  the  whole,  as  the  title  of  Sermons  gives 
some  right  to  expect  what  is  pLin  and  of  easy  compre- 
hension, and  as  the  best  auditories  are  mixed,  I  shall  not 
set  about  to  justify  the  propriety  of  preaching,  or  under 


4 


vi 


PREFACE. 


that  title  publishing,  Discourses  so  abstruse  as  some  of 
these  are  •  neither  is  it  worth  while  to  trouble  the  reader 
with  the  account  of  my  doing  either.  He  must  not  how- 
ever impute  to  me,  as  a  repetition  of  the  impropriety,  this 
second  edition,*  but  to  the  demand  for  it. 

Whether  he  will  think  he  has  any  amends  made  him 
by  the  following  illustrations  of  what  seemed  most  to 
require  them,  I  myself  am  by  no  means  a  proper  judge. 

There  are  two  ways  in  which  the  subject  of  morals 
may  be  treated.  One  begins  from  inquiring  into  the 
abstract  relations  of  things:  the  other  from  a  matter  of 
fact,  namely,  what  the  particular  nature  of  man  is,  its 
several  parts,  their  economy  or  constitution ;  from 
whence  it  proceeds  to  determine  what  course  of  life  it 
is,  which  is  correspondent  to  this  whole  nature.  In  the 
former  method  the  conclusion  is  expressed  thus,  that 
vice  is  contrary  to  the  nature  and  reason  of  things;  in 
the  latter,  that  it  is  a  violation  or  breaking  in  upon  our 
own  nature.  Thus  they  both  lead  us  to  the  same  thing, 
our  obligations  to  the  practice  of  virtue;  and  thus  they 
exceedingly  strengthen  and  enforce  each  other.  The 
first  seems  the  most  direct  formal  proof,  and  in  some 
respects  the  least  hable  to  cavil  and  dispute:  the  latter 
is  in  a  peculiar  manner  adapted  to  satisfy  a  fair  mind;  * 
and  is  more  easily  applicable  to  the  several  particular 
relations  «ind  circumstances  in  life. 

The  following  Discourses  proceed  chiefly  in  this  latter 
method.  The  three  first  wholly.  They  were  intended 
to  explain  what  is  meant  by  the  nature  of  man,  when  it 
is  said  that  virtue  consists  in  following,  and  vice  in 
deviating  from  it;  and  by  explaining  to  show  that  the 
assertion  is  true.  That  the  ancient  moralists  had  some 
inward  feeling  or  other,  which  they  chose  to  express  in 
this  manner,  that  man  is  born  to  virtue,  that  it  consists 
in  following  nature,  and  that  vice  is  more  contrary  to 
this  nature  than  tortures  or  death,  their  works  in  our 
hands  are  instances.  Now  a  person  who  found  no 
mystery  in  this  way  of  speaking  of  the  ancients;  who, 
without  being  very  explicit  with  himself,  kept  to  his 
natural  feeling,  went  along  with  them,  and  found  within 

*  The  j)reface  stands  exactly  as  it  did  before  the  second  edition  of  the  Sermons. 


PREFACE. 


vii 


himself  a  full  conviction,  that  what  they  laid  down  was 
just  and  true;  such  a  one  would  probably  wonder  to  see 
a  point,  in  which  he  never  perceived  any  difhculty,  so 
laboured  as  this  is,  in  the  second  and  third  Sermons; 
insomuch  perhaps  as  to  be  at  a  loss  for  the  occasion, 
scope,  and  drift  of  them.  But  it  need  not  be  thought 
strange  that  this  manner  of  expression,  though  familiar 
with  them,  and,  if  not  usually  carried  so  far,  yet  not 
uncommon  amongst  ourselves,  should  want  explaining ; 
since  there  are  several  perceptions  daily  felt  and  spoken 
of,  which  yet  it  may  not  be  very  easy  at  first  view  to 
explicate,  to  distinguish  from  all  others,  and  ascertain 
exactly  what  the  idea  or  perception  is.  The  many 
treatises  upon  the  passions  are  a  proof  of  this;  since  so 
many  would  never  have  undertaken  to  unfold  their 
several  complications,  and  trace  and  resolve  them  into 
their  principles,  if  they  had  thought,  what  they  were 
endeavouring  to  show  was  obvious  to  every  one,  who 
felt  and  talked  of  those  passions.  Thus,  though  there 
seems  no  ground  to  doubt,  but  that  the  generality  of 
mankind  have  the  inward  perception  expressed  so  com- 
monly in  that  manner  by  the  ancient  moralists,  more 
than  to  doubt  whether  they  have  those  passions;  yet  it 
appeared  of  use  to  unfold  tliat  inward  conviction,  and 
lay  it  open  in  a  more  explicit  manner,  than  I  had  seen 
done;  especially  when  there  were  not  wanting  persons, 
who  manifestly  mistook  the  whole  thing,  and  so  had 
great  reason  to  express  themselves  dissatisfied  with  it. 
A  late  author  of  great  and  deserved  reputation  says, 
tliat  to  place  virtue  in  following  nature,  is  at  best  a  loose 
way  of  talk.  And  he  has  reason  to  say  this,  if  what  I 
think  he  intends  to  express,  though  with  great  decency, 
l)€  true,  that  scarce  any  other  sense  can  be  put  upon 
I  hose  words,  but  acting  as  any  of  the  several  parts, 
without  distinction,  of  a  man's  nature  happened  most  to 
incline  him.* 

Whoever  thinks  it  worth  while  to  consider  this  matter 
thoroughly,  should  begin  with  stating  to  himself  exactly 
tlie  idea  of  a  system,  economy,  or  constitution  of  any 
particular  nature,  or  particular  any  thing:  and  he  will, 

♦  Rfl.  of  Nature  Dtlin.  ed.  1724.  pp.  22,  23. 


Viii  PREFACE. 

I  suppose,  find,  that  it  is  a  one  or  a  whole,  made  up  of 
several  parts ;  but  yet,  that  the  several  parts  even  con- 
sidered as  a  whole  do  not  complete  the  idea,  unless  in 
the  notion  of  a  whole  you  include  the  relations  and 
respects  which  those  parts  have  to  each  other.  Every 
work  both  of  nature  and  of  art  is  a  system:  and  as  every 
particular  thing,  both  natural  and  artificial,  is  for  some 
use  or  purpose  out  of  and  beyond  itself,  one  may  add, 
to  what  has  been  already  brought  into  the  idea  of  a  sys- 
tem, its  conduciveness  to  this  one  or  more  ends.  Let 
us  instance  in  a  watch — Suppose  the  several  parts  of  it 
taken  to  pieces,  and  placed  apart  from  each  other;  let  a 
man  have  ever  so  exact  a  notion  of  these  several  parts, 
unless  he  considers  the  respects  and  relations  which  they 
have  to  each  other,  he  will  not  have  any  thing  like  the 
idea  of  a  watch.  Suppose  these  several  parts  brought 
together  and  any  how  united:  neither  will  he  yet,  be  the 
union  ever  so  close,  have  an  idea  which  will  bear  any 
resemblance  to  that  of  a  watch.  But  let  him  view  those 
several  parts  put  together,  or  consider  them  as  to  be 
put  together  in  the  manner  of  a  watch;  let  him  form  a 
notion  of  the  relations  which  those  several  parts  have  to 
each  other — all  conducive  in  their  respective  ways  to 
this  purpose,  showing  the  hour  of  the  day ;  and  then  he 
has  the  idea  of  a  watch.  Thus  it  is  with  regard  to  the 
inward  frame  of  man.  Appetites,  passions,  affections, 
and  the  principle  of  reflection,  considered  merely  as  the 
several  parts  of  our  inward  nature,  do  not  at  all  give  us 
an  idea  of  the  system  or  constitution  of  this  nature; 
because  the  constitution  is  formed  by  somewhat  not  yet 
taken  into  consideration,  namely,  by  the  relations  which 
these  several  ^varts  have  to  each  other;  the  chief  of  which 
is  the  authority  of  reflection  or  conscience.  It  is  from 
considering  the  relations  which  the  several  appetites  and 
passions  in  the  inward  frame  have  to  each  other,  and, 
above  all,  the  supremacy  of  reflection  or  conscience,  that 
we  get  the  idea  of  the  system  or  constitution  of  human 
nature.  And  from  the  idea  itself  it  will  as  fully  appear, 
that  this  our  nature,  i.e.  constitution,  is  adapted  to  virtue, 
as  from  the  idea  of  a  watch  it  appears,  that  its  nature, 
i.  e.  constitution  or  system,  is  adapted  to  measure  time. 


• 


PREFACE.  IX 

What  in  fact  or  event  commonly  happens  is  nothing  to 
this  question.  Every  work  of  art  is  apt  to  be  out  of 
order:  but  this  is  so  far  from  being  according  to  its 
system,  that  let  the  disorder  increase,  and  it  will  totally 
destroy  it.  This  is  merely  by  way  of  explanation,  what 
an  economy,  system,  or  constitution  is.  And  thus  far 
the  cases  are  perfectly  parallel.  If  we  go  further,  there 
is  indeed  a  difference,  nothing  to  the  present  purpose, 
but  too  important  a  one  ever  to  be  omitted.  A  machine 
is  inanimate  and  passive:  but  we  are  agents.  Our  con- 
stitution is  put  in  our  own  power.  We  are  charged 
with  it;  and  therefore  are  accountable  for  any  disorder 
or  violation  of  it. 

Thus  nothing  can  possibly  be  more  contrary  to  nature 
than  vice;  meaning  by  nature  not  only  the  several  parts 
of  our  internal  frame,  but  also  the  constitution  of  it. 
Poverty  and  disgrace,  tortures  and  death,  are  not  so 
contrary  to  it.  Misery  and  injustice  are  indeed  equally 
contrary  to  some  different  parts  of  our  nature  taken 
singly:  but  injustice  is  moreover  contrary  to  the  whole 
constitution  of  the  nature. 

If  it  be'  asked,  whether  this  constitution  be  really 
what  those  philosophers  meant,  and  whether  they  would 
have  explained  themselves  in  this  manner ;  the  answer 
is  the  same,  as  if  it  should  be  asked,  whether  a  person^ 
who  had  often  used  the  word  resentment^  and  felt  the 
thing,  would  have  explained  this  passion  exactly  in  the 
same  manner,  in  which  it  is  done  in  one  of  tliese  Dis- 
courses. As  I  have  no  doubt,  but  that  this  is  a  true 
account  of  that  passion,  which  he  referred  to  and  intend- 
ed to  express  by  the  word  resentment;  so  I  have  no 
doubt,  but  that  this  is  the  true  account  of  tlic  ground  of 
that  conviction  which  they  referred  to,  when  thev  said, 
vice  was  contrary  to  nature.  And  though  it  should  be 
thought  that  they  meant  no  more  than  that  vice  was 
contrary  to  the  higher  and  better  part  of  our  nature  ; 
even  this  implies  such  a  constitution  as  I  have  endea- 
voured to  explain.  For  the  very  terms,  hiuluM*  and 
better,  imply  a  relation  or  respect  of  parts  to  each  other; 
and  these  relative  parts,  being  in  one  and  the  same  na- 
ture, form  a  constitution,  and  are  the  very  idea  of  it. 


X 


PREFACE. 


They  had  a  perception  that  injustice  was  contrary  to 
their  nature,  and  that  pain  was  so  also.  They  observed 
these  two  perceptions  totally  different,  not  in  degree, 
but  in  kind:  and  the  reflecting  upon  each  of  them,  as 
they  thus  stood  in  their  nature,  wrought  a  full  intuitive 
conviction,  that  more  was  due  and  of  right  belonged  to 
one  of  these  inward  perceptions,  than  to  the  other;  that 
it  demanded  in  all  cases  to  govern  such  a  creature  as 
man.  So  that,  upon  the  whole,  this  is  a  fair  and  true 
account  of  what  was  the  ground  of  their  conviction ;  of 
what  they  intended  to  refer  to,  when  they  said,  virtue 
consisted  in  following  nature :  a  manner  of  spi  aking  not 
loose  and  undeterminate,  but  clear  and  distinct,  strictly 
just  and  true. 

Though  I  am  persuaded  the  force  of  this  conviction  is 
felt  by  almost  every  one;  yet  since,  considered  as  an 
argument  and  put  in  words,  it  appears  somewhat  abstruse, 
and  since  the  connexion  of  it  is  broken  in  the  three  first 
Sermons,  it  may  not  be  amiss  to  give  the  reader  the 
whole  argument  here  in  one  view. 

Mankind  has  various  instincts  and  principles  of  action, 
■as  brute  creatures  have;  some  leading  most  directly  and 
immediately  to  the  good  of  the  community,  and  some 
most  directly  to  private  good. 

Man  has  several  which  brutes  have  not;  particularly 
reflection  or  conscience,  an  approbation  of  some  princi- 
ples or  actions,  and  disapprobation  of  others. 

Brutes  obey  their  instincts  or  principles  of  action, 
according  to  certain  rules  ;  suppose  the  constitution  of 
their  body,  and  the  objects  around  them. 

The  generality  of  mankind  also  obey  their  instincts 
and  principles,  all  of  them;  those  propensions  we  call 
good,  as  well  as  the  bad,  according  to  the  same  rules; 
namely,  the  constitution  of  their  body,  and  the  external 
circumstances  which  they  are  in.  [Therefore  it  is  not 
a  true  representation  of  mankind  to  affirm,  that  they 
are  wholly  governed  by  self-love,  the  love  of  power,  and 
sensual  appetites:  since,  as  on  the  one  hand  they  are 
often  actuated  by  these,  without  any  regard  to  right  or 
wrong;  so  on  the  other  it  is  manifest  fact,  that  the  same 
persons,  the  generality,  arc  frequently  influenced  by 


PREFACE.  XI 

friendship,  compassion,  gratitude  ;  and  even  a  general 
abhorrence  of  what  is  base,  and  Uking  of  what  is  fair 
and  just,  takes  its  turn  amongst  the  other  motives  of 
action.  This  is  the  partial  inadequate  notion  of  human 
nature  treated  of  in  the  first  Discourse:  and  it  is  by  this 
nature,  if  one  may  speak  so,  that  the  world  is  in  fact 
influenced,  and  kept  in  that  tolerable  order,  in  which  it 
is.] 

Brutes  in  acting  according  to  "the  rules  before  men- 
tioned, their  bodily  constitution  and  circumstances,  act 
suitably  to  their  whole  nature.  [It  is  however  to  be 
distinctly  noted,  that  the  reason  why  we  affirm  this  is 
not  merely  that  brutes  in  fact  act  so;  for  this  alone, 
however  universal,  does  not  at  all  determine,  whether 
such  course  of  action  be  correspondent  to  their  whole  na- 
ture: but  the  reason  of  the  assertion  is,  that  as  in  acting 
thus  they  plainly  act  conformably  to  somewhat  in  their 
nature,  so,  from  all  observations  we  are  able  to  make 
upon  them,  there  does  not  appear  the  least  ground  to 
imagine  them  to  have  any  thing  else  in  their  nature, 
which  requires  a  different  rule  or  course  of  action.] 

Mankind  also  in  acting  thus  would  act  suitably  to 
their  whole  nature,  if  no  more  were  to  be  said  of  man's 
nature  than  what  has  been  now  said ;  if  that,  as  it  is  a  true, 
were  also  a  complete,  adequate  account  of  our  nature. 

But  that  is  not  a  complete  account  of  man's  nature. 
Somewhat  further  must  be  brought  in  to  give  us  an  ad- 
equate notion  of  it;  namely,  that  one  of  those  principles 
of  action,  conscience  or  reflection,  compared  with  the 
rest  as  they  all  stand  together  in  the  nature  of  man, 
plainly  bears  upon  it  marks  of  authority  over  all  the  rest, 
and  claims  the  absolute  direction  of  them  all,  to  allow  or 
forbid  their  gratification:  a  disapprobation  of  reflection 
being  in  itself  a  principle  manifestly  superior  to  a  mere 
propension.  And  the  conclusion  is,  that  to  allow  no 
more  to  this  superior  principle  or  part  of  our  nature, 
than  to  other  parts;  to  let  it  govern  and  guide  only  occa- 
sionally in  common  with  the  rest,  as  its  turn  happens  to 
come,  from  the  temper  and  circumstances  one  happens 
to  be  in;  this  is  not  to  act  conformably  to  the  constitu- 
tion of  man:  neither  can  anv  human  creature  be  said  to 


Xii  PREFACE. 

act  conformably  to  his  constitution  of  nature,  unless  he 
allows  to  that  superior  prniciple  the  absolute  authority 
which  is  due  to  it.  And  this  conclusion  is  abundantly 
confirmed  from  hence,  that  one  may  determine  what 
course  of  action  the  economy  of  man's  nature  requires^ 
without  so  much  as  knowing  in  what  degrees  of  strength 
the  several  principles  prevail,  or  which  of  them  have 
actually  the  greatest  influence. 

The  practical  reason  of  insisting  so  much  upon  this 
natural  authority  of  the  principle  of  reflection  or  con- 
science is,  that  it  seems  in  great  measure  overlooked  by 
many,  who  are  by  no  means  the  worst  sort  of  men.  It 
is  thought  sufficient  to  abstain  from  gross  wickedness, 
and  to  be  humane  and  kind  to  such  as  happen  to  come 
in  their  way.  Whereas  in  reality  the  very  constitution 
of  our  nature  requires,  that  we  bring  our  whole  conduct 
before  this  superior  faculty;  wait  its  determination;  en- 
force upon  ourselves  its  authority,  and  make  it  the  busi- 
ness of  our  lives,  as  it  is  absolutely  the  whole  business 
of  a  moral  agent,  to  conform  ourselves  to  it.  This  is 
the  true  meaning  of  that  ancient  precept,  Reverence  thy- 
self. 

The  not  taking  into  consideration  this  authority,  which 
is  imphed  in  the  idea  of  reflex  approbation  or  disappro- 
bation, seems  a  material  deficiency  or  omission  in  lord 
Shaftesbury's  Inquiry  concerning  Virtue.  He  has  shown 
beyond  all  contradiction,  that  virtue  is  naturally  the  in- 
terest or  happiness,  and  vice  the  misery,  of  such  a  crea- 
ture as  man,  placed  in  the  circumstances  which  we  are 
in  this  world.  But  suppose  there  are  particular  excep- 
tions: a  case  which  this  author  was  unwilling  to  put,  and 
yet  surely  it  is  to  be  put:  or  suppose  a  case  which  he  has 
put  and  determined,  that  of  a  sceptic  not  convinced  of 
this  happy  tendency  of  virtue,  or  being  of  a  contrary 
opinion.  His  determination  is,  that  it  would  be  without 
remedy,*  One  may  say  more  exphcitly,  that  leaving  out 
the  authority  of  reflex  approbation  or  disapprobation, 
such  a  one  would  be  under  an  obligation  to  act  vicious- 
ly;  since  interest,  one's  own  happiness,  is  a  manifest 
obligation,  and  there  is  not  supposed  to  be  any  other 

♦  Characteristics,  vol.  ii.  p.  69. 


PREFACE. 


xiii 


obligation  in  the  case.  ^'But  does  it  much  mend  the 
matter,  to  take  in  that  natural  authority  of  reflection? 
There  indeed  would  be  an  obligation  to  virtue  ;  but 
would  not  the  obligation  from  supposed  interest  on  the 
side  of  vice  remain?"  If  it  should,  yet  to  be  under  two 
contrary  obligations,  i,  under  none  at  all,  would  not 
be  exactly  the  same,  as  to  be  under  a  formal  obligation 
to  be  vicious,  or  to  be  in  circumstances  in  which  the 
constitution  of  man's  nature  plainly  required  that  vice 
should  be  preferred.  But  the  obligation  on  the  side  oi 
interest  really  does  not  remain.  For  the  natural  autho- 
rity of  the  principle  of  reflection  is  an  obligation  the 
most  near  and  intimate,  the  most  certain  and  known : 
whereas  the  contrary  obligation  can  at  the  utmost  appear 
no  more  than  probable ;  since  no  man  can  be  certain  in 
any  circumstances  that  vice  is  his  interest  in  the  present 
world,  much  less  can  he  be  certain  against  another:  and 
thus  the  certain  obligation  would  entirely  supersede  and 
destroy  the  uncertain  one;  which  yet  would  have  been 
of  real  force  without  the  former. 

In  truth,  the  taking  in  this  consideration  totally 
changes  the  wdiole  state  of  the  case ;  and  shows,  what  this 
author  does  not  seem  to  have  been  aware  of,  that  the 
greatest  degree  of  scepticism  which  he  thought  possible 
will  still  leave  men  under  the  strictest  moral  obligations, 
whatever  their  opinion  be  concerning  the  happiness  of 
virtue.  For  that  mankind  upon  reflection  felt  an  appro- 
bation of  what  was  good,  and  disapprobation  of  the  con- 
trary, he  thought  a  plain  matter  of  fact,  as  it  undoubtedly 
is,  which  none  could  deny,  but  from  mere  affectation. 
Take  in  then  that  authority  and  obligation,  which  is  a 
constituent  part  of  this  reflex  approbation,  and  it  will 
undeniably  follow,  though  a  man  should  doubt  of  every 
thing  else,  yet,  that  he  would  still  remain  under  the 
nearest  and  most  certain  o])ligation  to  the  ])ractice  of 
virtue;  an  oljligation  implied  in  the  very  idea  of  virtue^  in 
the  very  idea  of  reflex  approbation. 

And  how  little  influence  soever  this  ()l)lii;ation  alone 
can  be  expected  to  have  in  fact  upon  mankind,  yet  one 
may  appeal  even  to  interest  and  self-love,  and  ask,  since 
from  man's  nature,  condition,  and  the  shortness  of  hfe. 


xiv 


PREFACE. 


SO  little,  so  very  little  indeed,  can  possibly  in  any  case  be 
gained  by  vice;  whether  it  be  so  prodigious  a  thing  ta 
sacrifice  that  little  to  the  most  intimate  of  all  obligations; 
and  which  a  man  cannot  transgress  without  being  self- 
condemned,  and,  unless  he  has  corrupted  his  nature, 
without  real  self-dislike :  this  question,  I  say,  may  be 
asked,  even  upon  supposition  that  the  prospect  of  a  fu- 
ture life  were  ever  so  uncertain.  ^ 

The  observation,  that  man  is  thus  by  his  very  nature 
a  law  to  himself,  pursued  to  its  just  consequences,  is  of 
the  utmost  importance ;  because  from  it  it  will  follow,  that 
though  men  should,  through  stupidity  or  speculative  scep- 
ticism, be  ignorant  of,  or  disbelieve,  any  authority  in  the 
universe  to  punish  the  violation  of  this  law;  yet,  if  there 
should  be  such  authority,  they  would  be  as  really  liable 
to  punishment,  as  though  they  had  been  beforehand 
convinced,  that  such  punishment  would  follow.  For  in 
whatever  sense  we  understand  justice,  even  supposing, 
what  I  think  would  be  very  presumptuous  to  assert,  that 
the  end  of  divine  punishment  is  no  other  than  that  of 
civil  punishment,  namely,  to  prevent  future  mischief ; 
upon  this  bold  supposition,  ignorance  or  disbelief  of  the 
sanction  would  by  no  means  exempt  even  from  this  jus- 
tice: because  it  is  not  foreknowledge  of  the  punishment 
which  renders  us  obnoxious  to  it ;  but  merely  violating 
a  known  obligation. 

And  here  it  comes  in  one's  way  to  take  notice  of  a 
manifest  error  or  mistake  in  the  author  now  cited,  un- 
less perhaps  he  has  incautiously  expressed  himself  so  as 
to  be  misunderstood;  namely,  that  it  is  malice  only,  and 
not  goodness,  v)hich  can  make  us  afraid*  Whereas  in 
reality,  goodness  is  the  natural  and  just  object  of  the 
greatest  fear  to  an  ill  man.  Malice  may  be  appeased 
or  satiated;  humour  may  change,  but  goodness  is  a 
fixed,  steady,  immovable  principle  of  action.  If  either 
of  the  former  holds  the  sword  of  justice,  there  is  plainly 
ground  for  the  greatest  of  crimes  to  hope  for  impunity: 
but  if  it  be  goodness,  there  can  be  no  possible  hope, 
whilst  the  reasons  of  things,  or  the  ends  of  government, 
call  for  punishment.    Thus  every  one  sees  how  much 

*  Cliarac'-PrisLics,  vol.  i.  p.  39 


PREFACE. 


XV 


greater  cliance  of  impunity  an  ill  man  has  in  a  partial 
administration,  than  in  a  just  and  uprioht  one.  It  is 
said,  that  the  interest  or  good  of  the  whole  must  he  the 
interest  of  the  universal  Being,  and  that  he  can  have  no 
other.  Be  it  so.  This  author  has  proved,  that  vice  is 
naturally  the  misery  of  miiukind  in  this  world.  Conse- 
quently it  was  for  the  good  of  the  whole  that  it  should 
be  so.  What  shadow  of  reason  then  is  there  to  assert, 
that  this  may  not  be  the  case  hereafter  .^^  Danger  of 
future  punishment  (and  if  there  be  danger,  there  is 
ground  of  fear)  no  more  supposes  malice,  than  the  pre- 
sent feeling  of  punishment  does. 

The  Sermon  upon  the  character  of  Balaam,  and  that 
upon  Self-deceit,  both  relate  to  one  subject.  I  am  per- 
suaded, that  a  very  great  part  of  the  wickedness  of  the 
world  is,  one  way  or  other,  owing  to  the  self-partiality, 
self -flattery,  and  self-deceit,  endeavoured  there  to  be 
laid  open  and  explained.  It  is  to  be  observed  amongst 
persons  of  the  lowest  rank,  in  proportion  to  their  com- 
pass of  thought,  as  much  as  amongst  men  of  education 
and  improvement.  It  seems,  that  people  are  capable  of 
being  thus  artful  with  themselves,  in  proportion  as  they 
are  capable  of  being  so  with  others.  Those  who  have 
taken  notice  that  there  is  really  such  a  thing,  namely, 
plain  falseness  and  insincerity  in  men  with  regard  to 
themselves,  will  readily  sec  the  drift  and  design  of  these 
Discourses:  and  nothing  that  I  can  add  will  explain  the 
design  of  them  to  him,  who  has  not  beforehand  remark- 
ed, at  least,  somewhat  of  the  character.  And  yet  the 
admonitions  they  contain  may  be  as  much  wanted  by 
such  a  person,  as  by  others ;  for  it  is  to  be  noted,  that  a 
man  may  be  entirely  possessed  by  this  unfairness  of 
mind,  without  having  the  least  speculative  notion  what 
the  thing  is. 

The  account  given  of  Resentment  in  the  eighth  Sermon 
is  introductory  to  the  following  one  upon  Fon/irrnrss  of 
Injuries.  It  may  possibly  have  appeared  to  some,  at 
first  sight,  a  strange  assertion,  that  injury  is  iUr  only 
natural  object  of  settled  resentment,  or  that  men  do  not 
in  fact  T' s#r  t  deliberately  any  thing  but  undrr  this  ap- 
pearance of  injury.     But  I  must  desir(^  the  reader  not 


xvi 


PREFACE. 


lo  take  any  assertion  alone  bv  itself,  but  fo  consider  the 
whole  of  what  is  said  upon  it:  because  this  is  necessary, 
not  only  in  order  to  judge  of  the  truth  of  it,  but  often, 
such  is  the  nature  of  language,  to  see  the  very  meaning 
of  the  assertion.  Particularly  as  to  this,  injury  and  in- 
justice is,  in  the  Sermon  itself,  explained  to  mean,  not 
only  the  more  gross  and  shocking  instances  of  wicked- 
ness, but  also  contempt,  scorn,  neglect,  any  sort  of 
disagreeable  behaviour  towards  a  person,  which  he 
thinks  other  than  what  is  due  to  him.  And  the  general 
notion  of  injury  or  wrong  plainly  comprehends  this, 
though  the  words  are  mostly  confined  to  the  higher  de- 
grees of  it. 

Forgiveness  of  injuries  is  one  of  the  very  few  moral 
obligations  which  has  been  disputed.  But  the  proof, 
that  it  is  really  an  obligation,  what  our  nature  and  con- 
dition require,  seems  very  obvious,  were  it  only  from 
the  consideration,  that  revenge  is  doing  harm  merely  for 
harm's  sake.  And  as  to  the  love  of  our  enemies:  re- 
sentment cannot  supersede  the  obligation  to  universal 
benevolence,  unless  they  are  in  the  nature  of  the  thing 
inconsistent,  which  they  plainly  are  not* 

This  divine  precept,  to  forgive  injuries  and  love  our 
enemies,  though  to  be  met  with  in  Gentile  moralists, 
yet  is  in  a  peculiar  sense  a  precept  of  Christianity ;  as 
our  Saviour  has  insisted  more  upon  it  than  upon  any 
other  single  virtue.  One  reason  of  this  doubtless  is, 
that  it  so  peculiarly  becomes  an  imperfect,  faulty  crea- 
ture. But  it  may  be  observed  also,  that  a  virtuous 
temper  of  mind,  consciousness  of  innocence,  and  good 
meaning  towards  every  body,  and  a  strong  feeling  of 
injustice  and  injury,  may  itself,  such  is  the  imperfection 
of  our  virtue,  lead  a  person  to  violate  this  obligation,  if 
he  be  not  upon  his  guard.  And  it  may  well  be  sup- 
posed, that  this  is  another  reason  why  it  is  so  much 
insisted  upon  by  him,  who  knew  what  was  in  man. 

The  chief  design  of  the  eleventh  Discourse  is  to  state 
the  notion  of  self-love  and  disinterestedness,  in  order 
to  show  that  benevolence  is  not  more  unfriendly  to 
self-love,  than  any  other  particular  aflfectioin whatever. 

*  Pace  106. 


PREFACE. 


Tliere  is  a  strange  affectation  in  many  people  of  explain- 
ing away  all  particular  affections,  and  representing  the 
whole  of  life  as  nothing  but  one  continued  exercise  of 
self-love.  Hence  arises  that  surprising  confusion  and 
perplexity  in  the  Epicureans*  of  old,  Hobbes,  the 
author  of  Reflections,  Sentences^  et  Maxinies  Morales,  and 
this  whole  set  of  writers;  the  confusion  of  calling  actions 
interested  which  are  done  in  contradiction  to  the  most 
manifest  known  interest,  merely  for  the  gratification  of 
a  present  passion.  Now  all  this  confusion  might  easily 
be  avoided,  by  stating  to  ourselves  wherein  the  idea  of 
self-love  in  general  consists,  as  distinguished  from  all 
particular  movements  towards  particuiar  external  ob- 
jects; the  appetites  of  sense,  resentment,  compassion, 
curiosity,  ambition,  and  the  rest.f  When  this  is  done, 
if  the  words  selfish  and  interested  cannot  be  parted  with, 
but  must  be  applied  to  every  thing ;  yet,  to  avoid  such 
total  confusion  of  all  language,  let  the  distinction  be 
made  by  epithets :  and  the  first  may  be  called  cool  or 
settled  selfishness,  and  the  other  passionate  or  sensual 
selfishness.  But  the  most  natural  way  of  speaking 
plainly  is,  to  call  the  first  only,  self-love,  and  the  actions 
proceeding  from  it,  interested  :  and  to  say  of  the  latter, 
that  they  are  not  love  to  ourselves,  but  movements 
towards  somewhat  external:  honour,  power,  the  harm 
or  good  of  another :  and  that  the  pursuit  of  these  exter- 
nal objects,  so  far  as  it  proceeds  from  these  movements 
(for  it  may  proceed  from  self-love t),  is  no  otherwise 
interested,  than  as  every  action  of  every  creature  must, 
from  the  nature  of  the  thing,  be;  for  no  one  can  act  but 
from  a  desire,  or  choice,  or  preference  of  his  own. 

Self-love  and  any  particular  passion  mav  be  joined 
together;  and  from  this  complication,  it  becomes  impos- 

*  One  nopil  only  look  into  Torquntus's  account  of  the  Epicurean  system,  In  Cice^ 
ro's  first  U)()k  l)e  Fmihus,  to  s«'e  in  what  n  siirprisincf  manner  this  was  Hon**  hj 
them.  Thus  Uw  desirt*  of  praise,  and  of  Iwinj^  Ix  lovetl,  he  explains  to  l)e  no  otlier 
than  desire  of  sjifcty  :  rrfjard  to  onr  coniitry,  rvt-ii  in  tlw  mo^l  virtu»)us  rhanuner,  to 
be  nothinjf  hut  n-jjnrd  to  oiirselvrs.  Tlie  author  of  li^/jT/njus,  ^cr.  Momlrs,  says, 
Curiosity  procnils  fnun  intrn  st  or  priile  ;  which  pridi*  also  would  douhih  ss  liare 
hern  ♦  xplainnl  to  be  s«  lf.love.  I'ape  85,  ed.  17i5.  As  if  ih«  n'  wi-n-  no  sncU  pas- 
sions in  mankind  as  tiesin*  of  esteem,  or  «>f  belovr»i,  or  of  knowlet{|[^. 
Hobbes's  account  of  tiie  utTecLiuus  of  good-will  and  pity  are  instances  of  llie  same 
kiod. 

+  Page  12'^,  &c.  X  See  the  note,  ixige  29- 

n 


xviii 


PREFACE. 


sible  in  numberless  instances  to  determine  precisely, 
how  far  an  action,  perhaps  even  of  one's  own,  has  for 
its  principle  general  self-love,  or  some  particular  passion. 
But  this  need  create  no  confusion  in  the  ideas  them- 
selves of  self-love  and  particular  passions.  We  dis- 
tinctly discern  what  one  is,  and  what  the  other  are: 
though  we  may  be  uncertain  how  far  one  or  the  other 
influences  us.  And  though,  from  this  uncertainty,  it 
cannot  but  be  that  there  will  be  different  opinions  con- 
cerning mankind,  as  more  or  less  governed  by  interest ;. 
and  some  will  ascribe  actions  to  self-love,  which  others 
will  ascribe  to  particular  passions:  yet  it  is  absurd  to 
say  that  mankind  are  wholly  actuated  by  either ;  since 
it  is  manifest  that  both  have  their  influence.  For  as,  on^ 
the  one  hand,  men  form  a  general  notion  of  interest, 
some  placing  it  in  one  thing,  and  some  in  another,  and 
have  a  considerable  regard  to  it  throughout  the  course 
of  their  hfe,  which  is  owing  to  self-love  ;  so,  on  the 
other  hand,  they  are  often  set  on  work  by  the  particular 
passions  themselves,  and  a  considerable  part  of  life  is? 
spent  in  the  actual  gratification  of  them,  i.  e.  is  employ- 
ed, not  by  self-love,  but  by  the  passions. 

Besides,  the  very  idea  of  an  interested  pursuit  neces- 
sarily presupposes  particular  passions  or  appetites  p 
since  the  very  idea  of  interest  or  happiness  consists  in 
this,  that  an  appetite  or  affection  enjoys  its  object.  It  is* 
not  because  we  love  ourselves  that  we  find  delight  in 
such  and  such  objects,  but  because  we  have  particular 
affections  towards  them.  Take  away  these  affections, 
and  you  leave  self-love  absolutely  nothing  at  all  to  em- 
ploy itself  about;*  no  end  or  object  for  it  to  pursue^, 
excepting  only  that  of  avoiding  pain.  Indeed  the  Epi- 
cureans, who  maintained  that  absence  of  pain  was  the 
highest  happiness,  might,  consistently  with  themselves, 
deny  all  affection,  and,  if  they  had  so  pleased,  every 
sensual  appetite  too :  but  the  very  idea  of  interest  or 
happiness  other  than  absence  of  pain  implies  particular 
appetites  or  passions;  these  being  necessary  to  constitute 
that  interest  or  happiness. 

The  observation,  that  benevolence  is  no  more  disiu- 

•  Page  128. 


PREFACE. 


xix 


terested  than  any  of  the  common  particular  passions,* 
seems  in  itself  worth  being  taken  notice  of;  but  is  insisted 
upon  to  obviate  that  scorn,  which  one  sees  rising  upon 
the  faces  of  people  who  are  said  to  know  the  world,  when 
mention  is  made  of  a  disinterested,  generous,  or  public- 
spirited  action.  The  truth  of  that  observation  might  be 
made  appear  in  a  more  formal  manner  of  proof :  for 
whoever  will  consider  all  the  possible  respects  and  re- 
lations which  any  particular  affection  can  have  to  self- 
love  and  private  interest,  will,  I  think,  see  demonstrably, 
that  benevolence  is  not  in  any  respect  more  at  variance 
with  self-love,  than  any  other  particular  affection  what- 
ever, but  that  it  is  in  every  respect,  at  least,  as  friendly 
to  it. 

If  the  observation  be  true,  it  follows,  that  self-love  and 
benevolence,  virtue  and  interest,  are  not  to  be  opposed, 
but  only  to  be  distinguished  from  each  other;  in  the  same 
way  as  virtue  and  any  other  particular  affection,  love  of 
arts,  suppose,  are  to  be  -distinguished.  Every  thing  is 
what  it  is,  and  not  another  thing.  The  goodness  or 
badness  of  actions  does  not  arise  from  hence,  that  the 
epithet,  interested  or  disinterested,  may  be  applied  to 
them,  any  more  than  that  any  other  indifferent  epithet, 
suppose  inquisitive  or  jealous,  may  or  may  not  be  ap- 
plied to  them ;  not  from  their  being  attended  with  present 
or  future  pleasure  or  pain  ;  but  from  their  being  what 
they  are;  namely,  what  becomes  such  creatures  as  we 
are,  what  the  state  of  the  case  requires,  or  the  contrary. 
Or  in  other  words,  we  may  judge  and  determine,  that 
an  action  is  morally  good  or  evil,  before  we  so  much  as 
consider,  whether  it  be  interested  or  disinterested.  This 
consideration  no  more  comes  in  to  determine  whether 
an  action  be  virtuous,  than  to  determine  whether  it  be 
resentful.  Self-love  in  its  due  degree  is  as  just  and 
morally  good,  as  any  affection  whatever.  Benevolence 
towards  particular  persons  may  be  to  a  degree  of  sveak- 
ness,  and  so  be  blameable :  and  disinterestedness  is  so 
far  from  being  in  itself  commendable,  that  the  utmost 
possible  depravity  which  we  can  in  imagination  conceive, 
is  that  of  disinterested  cruelty. 

♦  Pagr  13  \  9tc. 
H2 


XX 


PREFACE. 


Neither  does  there  appear  any  reason  to  wish  self-love 
were  weaker  in  the  generality  of  the  world  than  it  is. 
The  influence  which  it  has  seems  plainly  owing  to  its 
being  constant  and  habitual,  which  it  cannot  but  be,  and 
not  to  the  degree  or  strength  of  it.  Every  caprice  of  the 
imagination,  every  curiosity  of  the  understanding,  every 
afl'ection  of  the  heart,  is  perpetually  showing  its  weak- 
ness, by  prevailing  over  it.  Men  daily,  hourly  sacrifice 
tlie  greatest  known  interest,  to  fancy,  inquisitiveness, 
love,  or  hatred,  any  vagrant  inclination.  The  thing  to 
be  lamented  is,  not  that  men  have  so  great  regard  to 
their  own  good  or  interest  in  the  present  world,  for  they 
have  not  enough  ;*  but  that  they  have  so  little  to  the 
good  of  others.  And  this  seems  plainly  owing  to  their 
being  so  much  engaged  in  the  gratification  of  particular 
passions  unfriendly  to  benevolence,  and  which  happen 
to  be  most  prevalent  in  them,  much  more  than  to  self- 
love.  As  a  proof  of  this  may  be  observed,  that  there  is 
no  character  more  void  of  friendship,  gratitude,  natural 
affection,  love  to  their  country,  common  justice,  or  more 
equally  and  uniformly  hard-hearted,  than  the  abandoned 

in,  what  is  called,  the  way  of  pleasure  hard-hearted 

and  totally  without  feeling  in  behalf  of  others;  except 
when  they  cannot  escape  the  sight  of  distress,  and  so  are 
interrupted  by  it  in  their  pleasures.  And  yet  it  is  ridicu- 
lous to  call  such  an  abandoned  course  of  pleasure  interest- 
ed, when  the  person  engaged  in  it  knows  beforehand, 
goes  on  under  the  feeling  and  apprehension,  that  it  will  be 
as  ruinous  to  himself,  as  to  those  who  depend  upon  him. 

Upon  the  whole,  if  the  generality  of  mankind  were  to 
cultivate  within  themselves  the  principle  of  self-love  ;  if 
they  were  to  accustom  themselves  often  to  set  down 
and  consider,  what  was  the  greatest  happiness  they  were 
capable  of  attaining  for  themselves  in  this  life,  and  if  self- 
love  were  so  strong  and  prevalent,  as  that  they  would 
uniformly  pursue  this  their  supposed  chief  temporal  good, 
without  being  diverted  from  it  by  any  particular  passion ; 
it  would  manifestly  prevent  numberless  follies  and  vices. 
This  was  in  a  great  measure  the  Epicurean  system  of 
philosophy.    It  is  indeed  by  no  means  the  religious  or 

*  Page  3 1. 


PREFACE.  Xxi 

even  moral  institution  of  life.  Yet,  with  all  the  mistakes 
men  would  fall  into  about  interest,  it  would  be  less  mis- 
chievous than  the  extravagances  of  mere  appetite,  will, 
and  pleasure :  for  certainly  self-love,  though  confined  to 
the  interest  of  this  life,  is,  of  the  two,  a  much  better  guide 
than  passion,*  which  has  absolutely  no  bound  nor  mea- 
sure, but  what  is  set  to  it  by  this  self-love,  or  moral 
considerations. 

From  the  distinction  above  made  between  self-love, 
and  the  several  particular  principles  or  affections  in  our 
nature,  we  may  see  how  good  ground  there  was  for  that 
assertion,  maintained  by  the  several  ancient  schools  of 
philosophy  against  the  Epicureans,  namely,  that  virtue 
is  to  be  pursued  as  an  end,  eligible  in  and  for  itself. 
For,  if  there  be  any  principles  or  affections  in  the  mind 
of  man  distinct  from  self-love,  that  the  things  those 
principles  tend  towards,  or  that  the  objects  of  those 
affections  are,  each  of  them,  in  themselves  eligible,  to 
be  pursued  upon  its  own  account,  and  to  be  rested  in 
as  an  end,  is  impHed  in  the  very  idea  of  such  principle 
or  aflfection.f  They  indeed  asserted  much  higher  things 
of  virtue,  and  with  very  good  reason ;  but  to  say  thus 
much  of  it,  that  it  is  to  be  pursued  for  itself,  is  to  say  no 
more  of  it,  than  may  truly  be  said  of  the  object  of  every 
natural  affection  whatever. 

The  question,  which  was  a  few  years  ago  disputed  in 
France,  concerning  the  love  of  God,  which  was  there 
called  enthusiasm,  as  it  will  every  where  by  the  gener- 
ality of  the  world ;  this  question,  I  say,  answers  in 
religion  to  that  old  one  in  morals  now  mentioned.  And 
both  of  them  are,  I  think,  fully  determined  by  the  same 
observation,  namely,  that  the  very  nature  of  affection, 
the  idea  itself,  necessarily  implies  resting  in  its  object  as 
an  end. 

I  shall  not  here  add  any  thing  further  to  what  I  have 
said  in  the  two  Discourses  upon  that  most  nnportant 
subject,  but  only  this:  that  if  we  are  constituted  such 
sort  of  creatures,  as  from  our  very  nature  to  feel  certain 
affections  or  movements  of  mind,  upon  the  sight  or  con- 
templation of  the  meanest  inanimate  part  of  the  creation, 

•  p.  44.  t  p.  106. 


xxii 


PREFACE. 


for  the  flowers  of  the  field  have  their  beauty;  certainly 
there  must  be  somewhat  due  to  him  himself,  who  is  the 
Author  and  Cause  of  all  things;  who  is  more  intimately 
present  to  us  than  any  thing  else  can  be,  and  with  whom 
we  have  a  nearer  and  more  constant  intercourse,  than 
we  can  have  with  any  creature:  there  must  be  some 
movements  of  mind  and  heart  which  correspond  to  his 
perfections,  or  of  which  those  perfections  are  the  natural 
object:  and  that  when  we  are  commanded  to  love  the 
Lord  our  God  with  all  our  heart,  and  with  all  our  mind, 
and  with  all  our  soul;  somewhat  more  must  be  meant 
than  merely  that  we  live  in  hope  of  rewards  or  fear  of 
punishments  from  him;  somewhat  more  than  this  must 
be  intended:  though  these  regards  themselves  are  most 
just  and  reasonable,  and  absolutely  necessary  to  be  often 
recollected  in  such  a  world  as  this. 

It  may  be  proper  just  to  advertise  the  reader,  that  he 
is  not  to  look  for  any  particular  reason  for  the  choice  ot 
the  greatest  part  of  these  Discourses ;  their  being  taken 
from  amongst  many  others,  preached  in  the  same  place, 
through  a  course  of  eight  years,  being  in  great  measure 
accidental.  Neither  is  he  to  expect  to  find  any  other 
connexion  between  them,  than  that  uniformity  of  thought 
and  design,  which  will  always  be  found  in  the  writings 
of  the  same  person,  when  he  writes  with  simplicity  and 
in  earnest. 

stanhope,  Sept.  16,  172D. 


CONTENTS, 


UPON  HUMAN  NATURE,  OR  MAN  CONSIDERED  AS  A 
MORAL  AGENT. 

Page 

OERMON  I.— UPON  THE  SOCIAL  NATURE  OF  AL\N  ...  25 
For  as  we  have  many  members  in  one  body,  and  all  members  have  not 

the  same  office  :  so  we  being  many  are  one  body  in  Christ,  and  every 

one  members  one  of  another. — Rom.  xii.  4,  o. 

6ERMONS  IL  III.— UPON  THE  NATURAL  SUPREMACY  OF  CON- 
SCIENCE  37,  4? 

For  when  the  Gentiles,  which  have  not  the  law,  do  by  nature  the  things 
contained  in  the  law,  these,  having  not  ihe  law,  are  a  law  to  them- 
selves.— Rom.  ii.  14. 

Skrmon  IV.— upon  the  GOVERNMENT  OF  THE  TONGUE    .      .  53 
If  any  man  among  you  seem  to  be  religious,  and  bridleth  not  his  tongue, 
but  deceiveth  iiij  own  heart,  this  man's  religion  is  vain. — Jam.  i.  2G. 

Skr.mons  V.  VI.— UPON  COMPASSION  G4,  74 

Hejoice  with  them  that  do  rejoice,  and  weep  with  them  that  weep.— 
Rom.  xii.  Ij. 

Skr.mon  VII.— UPON  TFIE  CIIARACTEIl  OF  BALAAM     ...  82 
Xet  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be  like  his.— 
Numb,  xxiii.  1 0. 

Sermons  VIII.  IX.— UPON  RESENTMENT,  AND  FORGIVENESS  OF 
INJURIES  92,  101 

Ye  have  heard  that  it  halh  been  said,  Thou  shalt  love  tliy  neighbour,  and 
hate  thine  enemy:  but  1  say  unto  you,  Love  your  enemies,  bless  them 
tliat  curse  you,  do  good  to  them  that  hale  you,  and  pray  for  tiiem  that 
despitefuily  use  you  and  persecute  you. —  Mait.  v.  43,  44. 

Skr.mon  X.— upon  Self-deceit  113 

And  Nathan  said  to  David,  Thou  art  tlie  man. — 2  Sam.  xii.  7. 

Ser.mo.ns  XI.XII.— UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  OUR  NEIGHBOUR  .  125,  140 
And  if  tiiere  be  any  other  commandment,  it  is  briefly  comprehended  in 

this  saying,  naniely,  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neigh'jour  as  thyself.— 

Rom.  xiii.  V. 

SKn.M.:Ns  XIII.  XIV.— (  PON  I'lETV,  OR  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD  154,  1G3 

Thou  shalt  love  the  Lord  tl>y  God  wiih  nil  thy  heart,  and  with  all  thy 
sou],  and  wiih  all  ihy  mind. —  .Matt.  x.\ii.  :]7. 


Xxiv  CONTENTS. 

Page 

Sermon  XV.— UPON  THE  IGNORANCE  OF  MAN  ....  173 
When  I  applied  mine  heart  to  know  wisdom,  and  to  see  tlie  business  that 
is  done  upon  the  earth :  then  I  belield  all  the  work  of  God,  that  a  man 
cannot  find  out  the  work  that  is  done  under  the  sun:  because  though 
a  man  labour  to  seek  it  out,  yet  he  shall  not  find  it;  yea  farther, 
though  a  wise  man  think  to  know  it,  yet  shall  he  not  be  able  to  find 
it. — Eccles.  viii.  16,  17. 


SIX  SERMONS 

PREACHED  UPON  PUBLIC  OCCASIONS. 

Sermon  I.— PREACHED  BEFORE  THE  SOCIETY  FOR  PROPAGATING 
THE  GOSPEL  164 

And  this  gospel  of  the  kingdom  shall  be  preached  in  all  the  world,  for  a 
witness  unto  all  naiions. — Matt.  xxiv.  14. 

Sermon  H.— PREACHED  BEFORE  THE  LORD  MAYOR,  ALDERMEN, 
AND  SHERIFFS,  AND  THE  GOVERNORS  OF  THE  SEVERAL 
HOSPITALS  OF  THE  CITY  OF  LONDON  197 

The  rich  and  poor  meet  together:  the  Lord  is  the  maker  of  them  all.— 
Prov.  xxii.  2. 

Sermon-  III.— PREACHED  BEFORE  THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS,  JAN. 
30,  1740-41    '  211 

And  not  using  your  liberty  for  a  cloak  of  maliciousness,  but  as  the  ser- 
vants of  God. — 1  Pet.  ii.  16. 

Sermon  IV.— PREACHED  AT  THE  ANNUAL  MEETING  OF  THE 
CHARITY  CHILDREN  AT  CHRIST  CHURCH      ....  225 

Train  up  a  child  in  the  way  he  should  go :  and  when  he  is  old,  he  will 
not  depart  from  it. — Prov.  xxii.  G. 

Sermox  v.— PREACHED  BEFORE  THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS  ON  THE 
ANNIVERSARY  OF  HIS  MAJESTY'S  ACCESSION  TO  THE  THRONE  241 

I  exhort,  that,  first  of  all,  supplications,  prayers,  intercessions,  and 
giving  of  tlianks,  be  made  for  all  men ;  for  kings,  and  for  all  that  are 
in  authority ;  that  we  may  lead  a  quiet  and  peaceable  life,  in  ail  god- 
liness and  honesty. — 1  Tim.  ii.  1,  -2. 

SfcRMON  VI.— PREACHED  BEFORE  THE  GOVERNORS  OF  THE  ION- 
DON  INFIRMARY   250 

And  above  all  things  have  fervent  charity  among  yourselves;  for  charity 
shall  cover  tiie  multitude  of  sins. —  I  Pet.  iv.  8. 

A  CHARGE  TO  TIIE  CI  EW.GY  OF  THE  DIOCESE  OF  DURHAM, 
1751        ...    .      .      .       .  2CC 

CORRESPONDENCE  liETWEKN  1)R  BUTLER  AND  DR  CLARIvE  284 


SERMON  I, 


UPON  HUMAN  NATURE. 

JFbr  as  we  have  many  members  in  one  hodij^  and  all  members  have 
not  the  same  office :  so  we  being  many  are  one  body  in  Christy  and 
every  one  members  one  of  another. — Rom.  xii.  4,  5. 

The  Epistles  in  the  New  Testament  have  all  of  them  a 
particular  reference  to  the  condition  and  usages  of  the 
Christian  world  at  the  time  they  were  written.  There- 
fore as  they  cannot  be  thoroughly  understood,  unless 
that  condition  and  those  usages  are  known  and  attended 
to:  so  further,  though  they  be  known,  yet  if  they  be  dis- 
continued or  changed;  exhortations,  precepts,  and  il- 
lustrations of  things,  which  refer  to  such  circumstances 
now  ceased  or  altered,  cannot  at  this  time  be  urged  in 
that  manner,  and  with  that  force  which  they  were  to  the 
primitive  Christians.  Thus  the  text  now  before  us,  in 
its  first  intent  and  design,  relat(^s  to  the  decent  manage- 
ment of  those  extraordinary  gifts  wliich  were  then  in 
the  church,*  but  which  are  now  totally  ceased.  And 
even  as  to  the  allusion  that  ice  are  one  body  in  Ch7^ist; 
though  what  the  Apostle  here  intends  is  equally  true  of 
Christians  in  all  circumstances;  and  the  consideration  of 
it  is  plainly  still  an  additional  motive,  over  and  above 
moral  considerations,  to  the  discharge  of  the  several 
duties  and  offices  of  a  Christian:  yet  it  is  manifest  this 
allusion  must  have  appeared  with  much  greater  force  to 
those,  who,  by  the  many  difficulties  they  went  through 
for  the  sake  of  their  religion,  were  led  to  keep  always  in 
view  the  relation  they  stood  in  to  their  Saviour,  who  had 
undergone  the  same;  to  those,  who,  from  the  idolatries 
of  all  around  them,  and  their  ill-treatment,  were  taught 


*  1  Cor.  xii. 


26  UPON  HUMAN  NATURE.  [Ser.  I. 

to  consider  themselves  as  not  of  the  world  in  which  they 
lived,  but  as  a  distinct  society  of  themselves;  with  laws 
and  ends,  and  principles  of  life  and  action,  quite  contrary 
to  those  which  the  world  professed  themselves  at  that 
time  influenced  by.  Hence  the  relation  of  a  Christian 
was  by  them  considered  as  nearer  than  that  of  affinity 
and  blood;  and  they  almost  literally  esteemed  themselves 
as  members  one  of  another. 

It  cannot  indeed  possibly  be  denied,  that  our  being 
God's  creatures,  and  virtue  being  the  natural  law  we  are 
born  under,  and  the  whole  constitution  of  man  being 
plainly  adapted  to  it,  are  prior  obligations  to  piety  and 
virtue,  than  the  consideration  that  God  sent  his  Son  into 
the  world  to  save  it,  and  the  motives  which  arise  from 
the  peculiar  relation  of  Christians,  as  members  one  of 
another  under  Christ  our  head.  However,  though  all 
this  be  allowed,  as  it  expressly  is  by  the  inspired  writers; 
yet  it  is  manifest  that  Christians  at  the  time  of  the  reve- 
lation, and  immediately  after,  could  not  but  insist  mostly 
upon  considerations  of  this  latter  kind. 

These  observations  show  the  original  particular  refer- 
ence of  the  text;  and  the  pecuhar  force  with  which  the 
thing  intended  by  the  allusion  in  it,  must  have  been  felt 
l)y  the  primitive  Christian  world.  They  likewise  afford 
a  reason  for  treating  it  at  this  time  in  a  more  general  way. 

The  relation  which  the  several  parts  or  members  of 
the  natural  body  have  to  each  other  and  to  the  whole 
hody,  is  here  compared  to  the  relation  which  each  par- 
ticular person  in  society  has  to  other  particular  persons 
and  to  the  whole  society;  and  the  latter  is  intended  to 
be  illustrated  by  the  former.  And  if  there  be  a  likeness 
between  these  two  relations,  the  consequence  is  ob- 
vious: that  the  latter  shows  us  we  were  intended  to  do 
good  to  others,  as  the  former  shows  us  that  the  several 
members  of  the  natural  body  were  intended  to  be  instru- 
ments of  good  to  each  other  and  to  the  whole  body.  But 
as  there  is  scarce  any  ground  for  a  comparison  between 
society  and  the  mere  material  body,  this  without  the 
mind  being  a  dead  unactive  thing;  much  less  can  the 
comparison  be  carried  to  any  length.  And  since  the 
apostle  speaks  of  the  several  members  as  having  distinct 


Eea.  I.] 


UPON  HUMAN  NATURE. 


27 


offices,  which  impUes  the  mind ;  it  cannot  be  thought  an 
unallowable  liberty,  instead  of  the  body  and  its  members, 
to  substitute  the  whole  nature  of  man,  and  all  the  variety 
of  internal  principles  which  belong  to  it.  And  then  the 
comparison  will  be  between  the  nature  of  man  as  re- 
specting self,  and  tending  to  private  good,  his  own  pre- 
servation and  happiness ;  and  the  nature  of  man  as  hav- 
ing respect  to  society,  and  tending  to  promote  public 
good,  the  happiness  of  that  society.  These  ends  do  in- 
deed perfectly  coincide;  and  to  aim  at  public  and  private 
good  are  so  far  from  being  inconsistent,  that  they  mutu- 
ally promote  each  other :  yet  in  the  following  discourse 
they  must  be  considered  as  entirely  distinct;  otherwise 
the  nature  of  man  as  tending  to  one,  or  as  tending  to 
the  other,  cannot  be  compared.  There  can  no  com- 
])arison  be  made,  without  considering  the  things  com- 
paied  as  distinct  and  different. 

From  this  review  and  comparison  of  the  nature  of 
man  as  respecting  self,  and  as  respecting  society,  it  will 
plainly  appear,  that  there  are  as  real  and  the  same  kind 
of  indications  in  human  nature,  that  ice  were  made  for  so- 
ciety and  to  do  good  to  our  fellow  creatures;  as  that  we 
were  intended  to  take  care  of  our  own  life  and  health  and 
private  good:  and  that  the  same  objectians  lie  against  one 
of  these  assertions,  as  against  the  other.  For, 

First,  There  is  a  natural  principle  of  benevolence*  in 

*  Suppose  a  man  of  learning  to  be  wriliiio^  a  grave  book  upon  human  nature,  and 
to  show  in  several  parts  of  it  tliat  he  hail  insight  into  the  subject  he  was  consiiler- 
iiig  ;  amongst  other  things,  the  following  one  would  require  to  be  nccounteil  for  ;  the 
appearance  of  benevolence  or  good-will  in  men  towards  each  other  in  the  instances 
'of  natural  relation,  and  in  others.*  Cautions  of  being  deceived  with  outwanl  sliow, 
he  retires  within  himself  to  see  exactly,  what  that  is  in  the  mind  of  man  fronj  whence 
this  appearance  proceeds  ;  and,  upon  ileep  reflection,  asserts  the  principle  in  the 
mind  to  be  only  the  love  of  power,  and  dt  liyht  in  tlie  exercise  of  it.  Would  not 
every  botly  think  here  was  a  mistake  of  one  word  for  another?  that  the  philosopher 
was  contemplating  and  accounting  for  some  other  hunian  acduus,  some  other  b4  ha- 
viour  of  man  to  man?  And  could  any  one  he  thoroughly  sjitistieii,  tiiat  what  is  com- 
monly calleil  benevolence  or  g(>0(l  will  was  nally  the  atbction  meant,  but  only  by 
being  made  to  underst;ind  that  this  l«  arn«-il  person  had  a  general  hypoihesis,  to  which 
the  appearance  of  gcMxl-will  could  no  otherwise  be  reconciled  1*  'i'hat  what  has  thia 
appearance  is  often  nothing  l)ut  ambition;  thai  del  ghl  in  superiority  often  (suppose 
always)  mixes  itself  with  benevolence,  only  niakes  it  niore  specious  to  call  it  ambi- 
tion than  hunger,  of  the  two:  but  in  reality  that  passion  does  no  more  amtunt  for 
tlie  whole  app«-arances  of  go<Kl-will  than  tiiis  appetite  does  Is  there  not  often  the 
<npearance  of  one  man's  wishing  that  g(M)d  lo  anotlier,  w  hich  he  know  s  hin«s«  lf  un- 
able to  procure  him  ;  and  rejoicing  in  it,  though  bestowed  l»y  ii  thini  pers4ui  f  And 
can  love  of  power  any  w  ay  possibly  come  in  to  account  for        desire  or  deiight? 

*  lIobb«(i  of  Human  Naturr,  c.  ix.  S  7 


28  UPON  HUMAN  NATURE.  [Seb.  I. 

man;  which  is  in  some  degree  to  society y  what  self-love 
is  to  the  individual.  And  if  there  be  in  mankind  any 
disposition  to  friendship ;  if  there  be  any  such  thing  as 
compassion,  for  compassion  is  momentary  love  ;  if  there 
be  any  such  thing  as  the  paternal  or  filial  affections ;  if 
there  be  any  affection  in  human  nature,  the  object  and 
end  of  which  is  the  good  of  another;  this  is  itself  bene- 
volence, or  the  love  of  another.  Be  it  ever  so  short,  be 
it  in  ever  so  low  a  degree,  or  ever  so  unhappily  con- 
jfined ;  it  proves  the  assertion,  and  points  out  what  we 
were  designed  for,  as  really  as  though  it  were  in  a  higher 
degree  and  more  extensive.  I  must  however  remuid 
you  that  though  benevolence  and  self-love  are  different; 
though  the  former  tends  most  directly  to  public  good, 
and  the  latter  to  private:  yet  they  are  so  perfectly  coin- 
is  there  not  often  the  appearance  of  men's  distinguishing  between  two  or  more  per- 
sons, preferrinj^  one  before  another,  to  do  good  to,  in  cases  where  love  of  powrr  can- 
not in  the  least  account  for  the  distinction  and  preference?  For  this  principle  car> 
no  otherwise  distinguish  between  objects,  than  as  it  is  a  greater  instance  and  exertioo 
of  power  to  do  good  to  one  rather  than  to  another.  Again,  suppose  good-will  in  tiie 
mind  of  man  to  be  nothing  but  delight  in  the  exercise  of  power:  men  might  inile<d 
be  restrained  by  distant  and  accidental  consideration  ;  but  tliese  restrainis  bring  re- 
moved, they  would  have  a  disposition  to,  and  delight  in  mischief  as  an  exercise  atid 
proof  of  power :  and  this  disposition  and  delight  would  arise  from,  or  be  the  same 
principle  in  the  mind,  as  a  disposition  to,  and  delight  in  cliarity.  Tims  cruelty,  as 
distinct  from  envy  and  resentment,  would  be  exactly  the  same  in  the  mini!  of  n)an  as 
good-will:  that  one  tends  to  the  happiness,  the  other  to  the  misery  of  our  fellow 
creatures,  is,  it  seems,  merely  an  accidental  circumstance,  which  the  mind  hris  not 
the  least  regard  to.  These  are  the  absurdities  which  even  men  of  capacity  run  inio, 
when  they  have  occasion  to  belie  their  uature,  and  will  perversely  disclaim  that 
image  of  God  which  was  originally  stamped  upon  it,  the  traces  of  which,  however 
faint,  are  plainly  discernible  upon  the  mind  of  man. 

If  any  person  can  in  earnest  doubt,  whetiier  there  be  such  a  thing  as  good-will  \n 
one  man  towards  another;  (for  the  question  is  not  concerning  either  the  degree  or 
extensiveness  of  it,  but  concerning  the  affection  itself:)  let  it  be  observed,  that 
whether  man  be  thus^  or  otherwise  consttti/ted.  what  is  the  inward  frame  in  this  part*- 
cvlar,  is  a  mere  question  of  fact  or  natural  history,  not  proveable  immediately  by 
reason.  It  is  therefore  to  be  judged  of  and  determined  in  the  same  way  other  facts 
or  matters  of  natural  history  are:  by  appealing  to  the  external  senses,  or  inwani  per- 
ceptions, respectively,  as  the  matter  undt  r  consideration  is  cognizable  by  one  or  the 
other:  by  arguing  from  acknowledged  facts  ami  actions;  for  a  great  number  of  ac- 
tions in  the  same  kind,  in  ditierer\t  circumsti)nces,  and  respecting  diff'erent  objects 
will  prove  to  a  certainly,  what  [)rinciples  they  do  not,  and,  to  the  greatest  probability, 
wliat  principles  they  do  proceed  from:  aiid  lastly,  by  the  testimony  of  mankind. 
Now  that  there  is  some  degree  of  benevolence  amongst  men,  may  l)e  as  strongly  and 
plainly  proved  in  all  these  ways,  as  it  could  possibly  be  proved,  supposing  there  was 
this  affection  in  our  natiire.  And  should  any  one  think  fit  to  assert,  that  resentment 
in  the  mind  of  man  was  absolutely  nothing  but  reasonai)le  conc«Tn  for  our  own  safety, 
the  falsity  of  this,  and  what  is  the  real  nature  of  that  passion,  could  be  shown  in  no 
other  way  than  those  in  which  it  may  be  shown,  that  there  is  such  a  thing  in  sotm 
decree  as  real  good-will  in  man  towards  man.  It  is  sufficient  that  the  seecls  of  it  be 
implanted  in  our  nature  by  (lod  Tlu  re  is,  it  is  owned,  much  h  fi  for  us  to  do  upon 
our  own  heart  and  temper ;  to  cultivate,  to  improve,  to  call  it  forth,  to  exercise  it  iu 
a  steady,  uniform  maruier.    This  is  oiu-  work  ;  this  is  virtue  and  religion. 


Seb.  L] 


UPON  HUMAN  NATURE. 


29 


cident,  that  the  greatest  satisfactions  to  ourselves  depend 
upon  our  having  benevolence  in  a  due  degree ;  and  that 
self-love  is  one  chief  security  of  our  right  behaviour 
towards  society.  It  may  be  added,  that  their  mutual 
coinciding,  so  that  we  can  scarce  promote  one  without 
the  other,  is  equally  a  proof  that  we  were  made  for  both. 

Secondly,  This  w^ill  further  appear,  from  observing 
that  the  several  passions  and  affections j  which  are  dis- 
tinct *  both  from  benevolence  and  self-love,  do  in 
general  contribute  and  lead  us  to  public  good  as  really  as 
to  private.  It  might  be  thought  too  minute  and  parti- 
cular, and  would  carry  us  too  great  a  length,  to  distin- 
guish between  and  compare  together  the  several  passions 
or  appetites  distinct  from  benevolence,  whose  primary 
use  and  intention  is  the  security  and  good  of  society; 
and  the  passions  distinct  from  self-love,  whose  primary 
intention  and  design  is  the  security  and  good  of  the  in- 
dividual.t    It  is  enough  to  the  present  argument,  that 

*  Every  body  make^  a  distinction  between  self-love,  and  the  several  particular 
passions,  appetites,  and  affwlions  ;  and  yet  they  are  often  confounded  a^in.  That 
tliey  are  touilly  different,  will  be  seen  by  any  one  who  will  di.-tinou'sh  between  the 
passions  and  appetites  themselves,  and  endeavouring  after  the  nieiuis  of  their  ^ratifi- 
cition.  Consider  the  appetite  of  hunger,  and  the  desire  of  esteem  :  these  being  the 
occasion  both  of  pleasure  and  pain,  the  coolh  st  self  -love,  as  well  as  the  appetites  and 
passions  themselves,  may  put  us  upon  making  use  of  the  proper  methods  of  oLtaining 
tliat  pleasure,  and  avoiding  that  pain  ;  but  the  feelings  themselves,  the  pain  of  hunger 
and  shame,  and  the  delii;ht  from  esteem,  are  no  more  self-love  than  they  are  any 
tiling  in  the  work!.  Though  a  man  hated  himself,  he  would  as  mucii  feel  the  pain 
of  hunger  as  he  would  that  of  the  gout:  and  it  is  plainly  supposabU"  there  may  l)e 
creatures  with  self-love  in  them  to  the  highest  degree,  who  may  Ix*  quite  insensible 
and  indifferent  (as  men  in  some  cases  are)  to  the  contempt  and  esteem  of  iliose, 
wyiiW  whom  their  happiness  does  not  in  some  further  respects  depend.  And  as  self, 
love  and  tlie  several  particular  passions  and  appetites  are  in  themselves  totally  dif- 
ferent ;  so,  that  some  actions  proceed  from  one,  and  some  froni  the  other,  will  be 
manifest  to  any  who  will  observe  the  two  following  v«Ty  supposable  cases.  One  man 
rushes  upon  cerUiin  ruin  for  the  gratifiaition  of  a  present  d»  sire  :  nolxniy  will  call  ihe 
principle  of  tliis  action  self-love.  Suppose  anotlu-r  man  to  go  through  some  labori- 
ous work  upon  promise  of  a  great  rewml,  without  any  distinct  knowledge  what  tJie 
reward  will  be  :  this  course  of  action  cannot  be  ascribed  to  any  particular  passion. 
The  former  of  these  actions  is  plainly  lo  be  imputed  to  some  j>articular  pas>ion  or 
affection,  the  latter  as  plainly  to  the  general  affection  or  principle  of  self  love. 
That  there  are  some  particular  pursuits  or  actions  concerning  which  we  cannot  de- 
tern,  ine  how  far  they  are  owing  to  one,  anil  how  far  to  the  otlu  r,  proceeds  from  this 
that  tl»e  two  princi})les  are  frequently  mixed  together,  and  run  up  into  each  oUirr. 
Titis  distinction  is  furdu  r  explained  in  the  eU'\enlh  sermon. 

f  If  any  desire  to  see  this  distinction  antl  comparison  maih'  in  a  particular  instance, 
the  appetite  and  passion  now  mentioui-d  may  s»Tve  for  one.  Hunger  is  to  Ix'  con- 
bnler.  (I  as  a  private  appetite  ;  bec^iuse  the  eiul  for  which  it  waA  given  us  is  the 
pn's»TViuion  of  the  individiLil.  Desire  of  esteem  is  a  public  passion  ;  becruise  the 
eu»l  for  which  it  was  given  us  is  U)  regnlat*'  our  l)ehaviour  towards  sot  iely.  The 
resp«  ct  which  this  Ims  U)  private  ginxl  is  as  n  niole  us  the  respect  that  has  lo  public 
go<Kl  :  and  the  appetite  is  no  niore  self-love,  than  the  passion  is  Ix  nevolence.  The 
©bject  and  end  of  tlio  fofnitr  is  merely  food ;  the  obj*  ct  and  iiid  uf  Uie  latU-x  is 


80  UPON  HUMAN  NATURE.  [Ser.  I, 

desire  of  esteem  from  others,  contempt  and  esteem  of 
them,  love  of  society  as  distinct  from  affection  to  the 
good  of  it,  indignation  against  successful  vice,  that  these 
are  public  affections  or  passions;  have  an  immediate  re- 
spect to  others,  naturally  lead  us  to  regulate  our  be- 
haviour in  such  a  manner  as  will  be  of  service  to  our 
fellow  creatures.  If  any  or  all  of  these  may  be  consi- 
dered likewise  as  private  affections,  as  tending  to  private 
good ;  this  does  not  hinder  them  from  being  public  af- 
fections too,  or  destroy  the  good  influence  of  them  upon 
society,  and  their  tendency  to  public  good.  It  may  be 
added,  that  as  persons  without  any  conviction  from  reason 
of  the  desirableness  of  life,  would  yet  of  course  preserve 
it  merely  from  the  appetite  of  hunger;  so  by  acting 
merely  from  regard  (suppose)  to  reputation,  without 
any  consideration  of  the  good  of  others,  men  often  con- 
tribute to  public  good.  In  both  these  instances  they  are 
plainly  instruments  in  the  hands  of  another,  in  the  hands 
of  Providence,  to  carry  on  ends,  the  preservation  of  the 
individual  and  good  of  society,  which  they  themselves 
have  not  in  their  view  or  intention.  The  sum  is,  men 
have  various  appetites,  passions,  and  particular  affec- 
tions, quite  distinct  both  from  self-love  and  from  bene- 
volence: all  of  these  have  a  tendency  to  promote  both 
public  and  private  good,  and  may  be  considered  as 
respecting  others  and  ourselves  equally  and  in  common: 
but  some  of  them  seem  most  immediately  to  respect 
others,  or  tend  to  public  good ;  others  of  them  most  im- 
mediately to  respect  self,  or  tend  to  private  good:  as  the 
former  are  not  benevolence,  so  the  latter  are  not  self- 
love:  neither  sort  are  instances  of  our  love  either  to  our- 
selves or  others;  but  only  instances  of  our  Maker's  care 
and  love  both  of  the  individual  and  the  species,  and 
proofs  that  he  intended  we  should  be  instruments  of 
good  to  each  other,  as  well  as  that  we  should  be  so  to 
ourselves. 

Thirdly,  There  is  a  principle  of  reflection  in  men,  by 
which  they  distinguish  between,  approve  and  disapprove 


merely  esteem  :  but  tlie  latter  can  no  more  be  gratified,  witliont  contribulbg  to  tho 
gotnl  of  society;  than  the  former  can  be  gratified,  without  contributing  to  the  pre«cr» 
TBlkm  of  the  individual. 


Ser.  I  ]  UPON  HUMAN  NATURE.  31 

their  own  actions.  We  are  plainly  constituted  such  sort 
of  creatures  as  to  reflect  upon  our  own  nature.  The 
mind  can  take  a  view  of  what  passes  within  itself,  its 
propensions,  aversions,  passions,  affections,  as  respecting 
such  objects,  and  in  such  degrees;  and  of  the  several  ac- 
tions consequent  thereupon.  In  this  survey  it  approves 
of  one,  disapproves  of  another,  and  towards  a  third  is  af- 
fected in  neither  of  these  ways,  but  is  quite  indifferent. 
This  principle  in  man,  by  which  he  approves  or  disap- 
proves his  heart,  temper,  and  actions,  is  conscience;  for 
this  is  the  strict  sense  of  the  word,  though  sometimes  it 
is  used  so  as  to  take  in  more.  And  that  this  faculty 
tends  to  restrain  men  from  doing  mischief  to  each  other, 
and  leads  them  to  do  good,  is  too  manifest  to  need 
being  insisted  upon.  Thus  a  parent  has  the  affection  of 
love  to  his  children:  this  leads  him  to  take  care  of,  to 
educate,  to  make  due  provision  for  them;  the  natural  af- 
fection leads  to  this:  but  the  reflection  that  it  is  his 
proper  business,  what  belongs  to*him,  that  it  is  right  and 
commendable  so  to  do;  this  added  to  the  affection  be- 
comes a  much  more  settled  principle,  and  carries  him  on 
through  more  labour  and  difficulties  for  the  sake  of  his 
children,  than  he  would  undergo  from  that  affection 
alone,  if  he  thought  it,  and  the  course  of  action  it  led  to, 
either  indifferent  or  criminal.  This  indeed  is  impossi- 
ble, to  do  that  which  is  good  and  not  to  approve  of  it; 
for  which  reason  they  are  frequently  not  considered  as  j 
distinct,  though  they  really  are:  for  men  often  approve 
of  the  actions  of  ethers,  which  they  will  not  imitate,  and 
likewise  do  that  which  tliey  approve  not.  It  cannot 
possibly  be  denied,  that  there  is  this  principle  of  reflec- 
tion or  conscience  in  human  nature.  Suppose  a  man  to 
relieve  an  innocent  person  in  great  distress;  suppose  tlui 
same  man  afterwards,  in  the  fury  of  anger,  to  do  the 
greatest  mischief  to  a  person  who  had  given  no  just  cause 
of  offence;  to  aggravate  the  injury,  add  the  circumstances 
of  former  friendship,  and  obligation  from  the  injured 
person;  let  the  man  who  is  supposed  to  have  done  these 
two  different  actions,  coolly  reflect  upon  them  afterwards, 
without  regard  to  their  consequences  to  himself:  to  as- 
sert that  any  common  man  would  be  affected  iu  the 


32  trPON  HUMAN  NATURE.  ^Sbr.  I. 

same  way  towards  these  different  actions,  that  he  would 
make  no  distinction  between  them,  but  approve  or  dis- 
approve them  equally,  is  too  glaring  a  falsity  to  need 
being  confuted.  There  is  therefore  this  principle  of  re- 
flection or  conscience  in  mankind.  It  is  needless  to 
compare  the  respect  it  has  to  private  good,  with  the  re- 
spect it  has  to  public ;  since  it  plainly  tends  as  much  to 
the  latter  as  to  the  former,  and  is  commonly  thought  to 
tend  chiefly  to  the  latter.  This  faculty  is  now  mentioned 
merely  as  another  part  in  the  inward  frame  of  man, 
pointing  out  to  us  in  some  degree  what  we  are  intended 
for,  and  as  what  will  naturally  and  of  course  have  some 
influence.  The  particular  place  assigned  to  it  by  nature, 
what  authority  it  has,  and  how  great  influence  it  ought 
have,  shall  be  hereafter  considered. 

From  this  comparison  of  benevolence  and  self-love, 
of  our  public  and  private  afl'ections,  of  the  courses  of  life 
they  lead  to,  and  of  the  principle  of  reflection  or  con- 
science as  respecting  eath  of  them,  it  is  as  manifest,  that 
we  were  made  for  society,  and  to  promote  the  happiness  of 
it ;  as  that  we  were  intended  to  take  care  of  our  own  life, 
and  healthy  and  private  good. 

And  from  this  whole  review  must  be  given  a  difl'erent 
draught  of  human  nature  from  what  we  are  often  pre- 
sented with.  Mankind  are  by  nature  so  closely  united, 
there  is  such  a  correspondence  between  the  inward  sen- 
sations of  one  man  and  those  of  another,  that  disgrace  is 
as  much  avoided  as  bodily  pain,  and  to  be  the  object  of 
esteem  and  love  as  much  desired  as  any  external  goods: 
and  in  many  particular  cases,  persons  are  carried  on  to 
do  good  to  others,  as  the  end  their  afl*ection  tends  to  and 
rests  in  ;  and  manifest  that  they  find  real  satisfaction  and 
enjoyment  in  this  course  of  behaviour.  There  is  such  a 
natural  principle  of  attraction  in  man  towards  man,  that 
having  trod  the  same  tract  of  land,  having  breathed  in 
the  same  climate,  barely  having  been  in  the  same  arti- 
ficial district  or  division,  becomes  the  occasion  of  con- 
tractmg  acquaintances  and  fiimiliarities  many  years  after: 
for  any  thing  may  servo  the  purpose.  Thus  relations 
merely  nominal  are  sought  and  invented,  not  by  gover- 
nors, but  by  the  lowest  of  the  people ;  which  are  found 


Seb.  I.J 


UPON  HUMAN  NATURE. 


33 


sufficient  to  hold  mankind  together  in  httle  fraternities 
and  copartnerships:  weak  ties  indeed,  and  what  may 
afford  fund  enough  for  ridicule,  if  they  are  absurdly  con- 
sidered as  the  real  principles  of  that  union:  but  they  are 
in  truth  merely  the  occasions,  as  any  thing  may  be  of 
any  thing,  upon  which  our  nature  carries  us  on  accord- 
ing to  its  own  previous  bent  and  bias;  which  occasions 
therefore  would  be  nothing  at  all,  w^ere  there  not  this 
prior  disposition  and  bias  of  nature.  jMen  are  so  much 
one  body,  that  in  a  peculiar  manner  they  feel  for  each 
other,  shame,  sudden  danger,  resentment,  honour,  pros- 
perity, distress ;  one  or  another,  or  all  of  these,  from  the 
social  nature  in  general,  from  benevolence,  upon  the 
occasion  of  natural  relation,  acquaintance,  protection, 
dependence;  each  of  these  being  distinct  cements  of 
society.  And  therefore  to  have  no  restraint  from,  no 
regard  to  others  in  our  behaviour,  is  the  speculative 
absurdity  of  considering  ourselves  as  single  and  inde- 
pendent, as  having  nothing  in  our  nature  which  has  re- 
spect to  our  fellow  creatures,  reduced  to  action  and 
practice.  And  this  is  the  same  absurdity,  as  to  suppose 
a  hand,  or  any  part,  to  have  no  natural  respect  to  any 
other,  or  to  the  whole  body. 

But  allowing  all  this,  it  may  be  asked,  Has  not  man 
dispositions  and  principles  within,  which  lead  him  to  do 
evil  to  others,  as  well  as  to  do  good?  Whence  come 
the  many  miseries  else,  which  men  are  the  authors  and 
instruments  of  to  each  other?"  These  questions,  so  far 
as  they  relate  to  the  foregoing  discourse,  may  be  answer- 
ed by  asking,  Has  not  man  also  dispositions  and  prin- 
ciples within,  which  lead  him  to  do  evil  to  himself  as  well 
as  good?  Whence  come  the  many  miseries  else,  sick- 
ness, pain,  and  death,  which  men  are  instruments  and 
authors  of  to  themselves? 

It  may  be  thought  more  easy  to  answer  one  of  these 

questions  than  the  other,  but  the  answer  to  both  is  really 

the  same;  that  mankind  have  ungoverned  passions  whii  h 

they  will  gratify  at  any  rate,  as  well  to  the  injury  of 

others,  as  in  contradiction  to  known  private  interest:  but 

that  as  there  is  no  such  thing  as  self-hatred,  so  neith(  r 

is  there  any  such  thing  as  ill-will  in  one  man  towards 

c 


34  UPON  HUMAN  NATURE.  [Ser.  I - 

another,  emulation  and  resentment  being  aweiy;  whereas, 
there  is  plainly  benevolence  or  good-will;  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  love  of  injustice,  oppression,  treachery,  in- 
gratitude; but  only  eager  desires  after  such  and  such 
external  goods;  which,  according  to  a  very  ancient  ob- 
servation, the  most  abandoned  would  choose  to  obtain  by 
innocent  means,  if  they  were  as  easy,  and  as  effectual  to 
their  end:  that  even  emulation  and  resentment, by  any  one . 
who  will  consider  what  these  passions  really  are  in  na- 
ture,* will  be  found  nothing  to  the  purpose  of  this  objec- 
tion :  and  that  the  principles  and  passions  in  the  mind  of. 
man,  wdiich  are  distinct  both  from  self-love  and  benevo- 
lence, primarily  and  most  directly  lead  to  right  behaviour 
w^ith  regard  to  others  as  well  as  himself,  and  only  second- 
arily and  accidentally  to  what  is  evil.  Thus,  though  men, 
to  avoid  the  shame  of  one  villany,  are  sometimes  guilty  of 
a  greater,  yet  it  is  easy  to  see,  that  the  original  tendency 
of  shame  is  to  prevent  the  doing  of  shameful  actions; 
and  its  leading  men  to  conceal  such  actions  when  done, 
is  only  in  consequence  of  their  being  done;  i.e,  of  the 
passion's  not  having  answered  its  first  end. 

If  it  be  said,  that  there  are  persons  in  the  world,  who 
are  in  great  measure  without  the  natural  affections  to- 
wards their  fellow  creatures :  there  are  likewise  instances 
of  persons  without  the  common  natural  affections  to. 
themselves:  but  the  nature  of  man  is  not  to  be  judged 
of  by  either  of  these,  but  by  what  appears  in  the  common 
world,  in  the  bulk  of  mankind. 

I  am  afraid  it  w^ould  be  thought  very  strange,  if  to  con- 
firm the  truth  of  this  account  of  human  nature,  and  make 
out  the  justness  of  the  foregoing  comparison,  it  should 
be  added,  that,  from  what  appears,  men  in  fact  as  much 
and  as  often  contradict  that  part  of  their  nature  which 
respects  self^  and  which  leads  them  to  their  own  private 

*  Emulation  is  men  ly  the  desire  and  hope  of  equality  with,  or  superiority  over 
others,  with  wlioni  we  compare  ourselves.  There  does  not  appear  to  be  any  other 
grief  in  the  natural  passion,  hut  only  want  which  is  implied  in  desire.  However 
this  may  be  so  strong  as  to  be  ihe  occjision  ot  great  grief.  To  desire  the  attainment 
of  this  equality  or  superiority  l)y  the  particular  means  of  oLiiers  being  brought  down 
to  our  own  level,  or  below  it,  is,  1  think,  tlie  distinct  notion  of  envy.  Trom  whence 
it  is  easy  tf)  see,  that  the  real  «  iid,  which  tii«;  natural  pas>ion  enuilation,  and  whicll 
the  unlawtul  on*-  envy  aims  at,  is  exjicily  tiie  same  ;  nantely,  that  equality  or  superi- 
ority:  and  consequcnily,  that  to  do  mischief  is  not  tlu'  end  of  envy,  but  merely  the 
mcaus  it  makes  use  ot  to  attaui  its  end.    As  to  reseutujent,  see  the  eighth  sermon. 


Ser.  I.]  UPON  HUMAN  NATURE.  35 

good  and  happiness ;  as  they  contradict  that  parf  of  it 
which  respects  society,  and  tends  to  public  good:  that 
there  are  as  few  persons,  who  attain  the  greatest  satis- 
faction and  enjoyment  which  they  might  attain  in  the 
present  world;  as  who  do  the  greatest  good  to  others 
which  they  might  do;  nay,  that  there  are  as  few  who 
can  be  said  really  and  in  earnest  to  aim  at  one,  as  at  the 
other.  Take  a  survey  of  mankind:  the  world  in  general, 
the  good  and  bad,  almost  without  exception,  equally  are 
agreed,  that  were  religion  out  of  the  case,  the  happiness 
of  the  present  life  would  consist  in  a  manner  wholly  in 
riches,  honours,  sensual  gratifications ;  insomuch  that  one 
scarce  hears  a  reflection  made  upon  prudence,  life,  con- 
duct, but  upon  this  supposition.  Yet  on  the  contrary, 
that  persons  in  the  greatest  affluence  of  fortune  are  no 
happier  than  such  as  have  only  a  competency ;  that  the 
cares  and  disappointments  of  ambition  for  the  most  part 
far  exceed  the  satisfactions  of  it;  as  also  the  miserable 
intervals  of  intemperance  and  excess,  and  the  many  un- 
timely deaths  occasioned  by  a  dissolute  course  of  life  .- 
these  things  are  all  seen,  acknowledged,  by  every  one  ac- 
knowledged; but  are  thought  no  objections  against,  though 
they  expressly  contradict,  this  universal  principle,  that  the 
happiness  of  the  present  life  consists  in  one  or  other  of 
them.  Whence  is  all  this  absurdity  and  contradiction?  Is 
not  the  middle  way  obvious  ?  Can  any  thing  be  more 
manifest,  than  that  the  happiness  of  life  consists  in  these 
possessed  and  enjoyed  only  to  a  certain  degree ;  that  to 
pursue  them  beyond  this  degree,  is  always  attended 
with  more  inconvenience  than  advantage  to  a  man's 
scdf,  and  often  with  extreme  misery  and  unhappiness. 
Whence  then,  I  say,  is  all  this  absurdity  and  contradic- 
tion ?  Is  it  really  the  result  of  consideration  in  man- 
kind, how  they  may  become  most  easy  to  themselves, 
most  free  from  care,  and  enjoy  the  chief  happiness 
attainable  in  this  world  ?  Or  is  it  not  manifestly  owing 
either  to  this,  that  they  have  not  cool  and  reasonable 
concern  enough  for  themselves  to  consider  wherein  their 
chief  happiness  in  the  present  life  consists  ;  or  else,  if 
they  do  consider  it,  that  they  will  not  act  conformably 
to  what  is  the  result  of  that  consideration:  t.  e.  reasona- 

c2 


36  UPON  HUMAN  NATURE.  pSo.  I. 

ble  concern  for  themselves,  or  cool  self-love  is  prevailed 
over  by  passion  and  appetite.  So  that  from  what 
appears,  there  is  no  ground  to  assert  that  those  princi- 
ples in  the  nature  of  man,  which  most  directly  lead  to 
promote  the  g(.od  of  our  fellow  creatures,  are  more 
generally  or  in  a  greater  degree  violated,  than  those, 
which  most  directly  lead  us  to  promote  our  own  private 
good  and  happiness. 

The  sum  of  the  whole  is  plainly  this.  The  nature  of 
man,  considered  in  his  single  capacity,  and  with  respect 
only  to  the  present  world,  is  adapted  and  leads  him  to 
attain  the  greatest  happiness  he  can  for  himself  in  the 
present  world.  The  nature  of  man,  considered  in  his 
public  or  social  Capacity,  leads  him  to  a  right  behaviour 
in  society  to  diat  course  of  hfe  which  we  call  virtue.. 
Men  follow  or  obey  their  nature  in  both  these  capacities 
and  respects  to  a  '^ertain  degree,  but  not  entirely  :  their 
actions  do  not  come  up  to  the  whole  of  w^hat  their 
nature  leads  them  to  in  either  of  these  capacities  or 
respects:  and  th-^y  often  violate  their  nature  in  both, 
2.  e.  as  they  neghxt  the  duties  they  owe  to  their  fellow 
creatures,  to  which  their  nature  leads  them  ;  and  are 
injurious,  to  which  their  nature  is  abhorrent;  so  there 
is  a  manifest  negligence  in  men  of  their  real  happiness 
or  interest  in  the  present  world,  when  that  interest  is 
inconsistent  with  a  present  gratification  ;  for  the  sake  of 
which  they  negligently,  nay,  even  knowingly,  are  the 
authors  and  instruments  of  their  own  misery  and  ruin. 
Thus  they  are  as  often  unjust  to  themselves  as  to  others, 
and  for  the  most  part  are  equally  so  to  both  by  the 
same  actions. 


Sbs  IL] 


UPON  HUMAN  NATURE, 


37 


SERMON  II.  IIL 

aPON  HUMAN  NATURE. 

Tor  when  the  Gentiles,  which  have  not  the  law,  do  by  nature  the 
things  contained  in  the  law,  these,  having  not  the  law,  are  a  law 
unto  themselves. — Rom.  ii.  14. 

As  speculative  truth  admits  of  different  kinds  of  proof, 
so  likewise  moral  obligations  may  be  shown  by  different 
methods.  If  the  real  nature  of  any  creature  leads  him 
and  is  adapted  to  such  and  such  purposes  only,  or  more 
than  to  any  other;  this  is  a  reason  to  believe  the  author 
of  that  nature  intended  it  for  those  purposes.  Thus 
there  is  no  doubt  the  eye  was  intended  for  us  to  see 
with.  And  the  more  complex  any  constitution  is,  and 
the  greater  variety  of  parts  there  are  which  thus  tend  to 
some  one  end,  the  stronger  is  the  proof  that  such  end 
was  designed.  However,  when  the  inward  frame  of  man 
is  considered  as  any  guide  in  morals,  the  utmost  caution 
must  be  used  that  none  make  peculiarities  in  their  own 
temper,  or  any  thing  which  is  the  effect  of  particular 
customs,  though  observable  in  several,  the  standard  of 
what  is  common  to  the  species;  and  above  all,  that  the 
highest  principle  be  not  forgot  or  exchided,  that  to  which 
belongs  the  adjustment  and  correction  of  all  other  inward 
movements  and  affections:  which  principle  will  of  course 
have  some  inflaence,  but  which  being  in  nature  supreme, 
as  shall  now  be  shown,  ought  to  preside  over  and  govern 
all  the  rest.  The  difficulty  of  rightly  observing  the  two 
former  cautions;  the  appearance  there  is  of  some  small 
diversity  amongst  mankind  with  respect  to  this  faculty, 
with  respect  to  their  natural  sense  of  moral  good  and 
evil;  and  the  attention  necessary  to  survey  with  any 
exactness  what  passes  within,  have  occasioned  that  it  is 
not  so  much  agreed  what  is  the  standard  of  the  internal 
nature  of  man,  as  of  his  external  form.  Neither  is  this 
last  exactly  settk  d.  Yet  we  understand  one  another 
when  we  speak  of  the  shape  of  a  human  body:  so  like- 
wise we  do  when  we  speak  of  the  heart  and  inward 


38  UPON  HUMAN  NATURE.  [Ser.  II. 

principles,  how  far  soever  the  standard  is  from  being 
exact  or  precisely  fixed.  There  is  therefore  ground  for 
an  attempt  of  showing  men  to  themselves,  of  showing 
them  what  course  of  life  and  behaviour  their  real  nature 
points  out  and  would  lead  them  to.  Now  obligations  of 
virtue  shown,  and  motives  to  the  practice  of  it  enforced, 
from  a  review  of  the  nature  of  man,  are  to  be  considered 
as  an  appeal  to  each  particular  person's  heart  and  natural 
conscience:  as  the  external  senses  are  appealed  to  for 
the  proof  of  things  cognizable  by  them.  Since  then  our 
inward  feelings,  and  the  perceptions  we  receive  from  our 
external  senses,  are  equally  real;  to  argue  from  the  for- 
mer to  life  and  conduct  is  as  little  liable  to  exception,  as 
to  argue  from  the  latter  to  absolute  speculative  truth. 
A  man  can  as  little  doubt  whether  his  eyes  were  given 
him  to  see  with,  as  he  can  doubt  of  the  truth  of  the 
science  of  optics^  deduced  from  ocular  experiments. 
And  allowing  the  inward  feeling,  shame;  a  man  can  as 
little  doubt  whether  it  was  given  him  to  prevent  his 
doing  shameful  actions,  as  he  can  doubt  whether  his  eyes 
were  given  him  to  guide  his  steps.  And  as  to  these  in- 
ward feelings  themselves;  that  they  are  real,  that  man 
has  in  his  nature  passions  and  affections,  can  no  more  be 
questioned,  than  that  he  has  external  senses.  Neither 
can  the  former  be  wholly  mistaken;  though  to  a  certain 
degree  liable  to  greater  mistakes  than  the  latter. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  but  that  several  propensions 
or  instincts,  several  principles  in  the  heart  of  man,  carry 
him  to  society,  and  to  contribute  to  the  happiness  of  it, 
in  a  sense  and  a  manner  in  which  no  inward  principle 
leads  him  to  evil.  These  principles,  propensions,  or  in- 
stincts which  lead  him  to  do  good,  are  approved  of  by  a 
certain  faculty  within,  quite  distinct  from  these  propen- 
sions themselves.  All  this  hath  been  fully  made  out  in 
the  foregoing  discourse. 

But  it  may  be  said,  "  What  is  all  this,  though  true,  to 
the  purpose  of  virtue  and  religion  these  require,  not 
only  that  we  do  good  to  others  when  we  are  led  this 
way,  by  benevolence  or  reflection,  happening  to  be 
stronger  than  other  principles,  passions,  or  appetites; 
but  likewise  that  the  wJiolc  character  be  formed  upon 


SfiR.  IT.]  UPON  HUMAN  NATURE.  39 

thought  and  reflection ;  that  every  action  be  directed  by 
some  determinate  rule,  some  other  rule  than  the  strength 
and  prevalency  of  any  principle  or  passion.  What  sign 
is  there  in  our  nature  (for  the  inquiry  is  only  about  what 
is  to  be  collected  from  thence)  that  this  was  intended  by 
its  Author.^  Or  how  does  so  various  and  fickle  a  temper 
as  that  of  man  appear  adapted  thereto?  It  may  indeed 
be  absurd  and  unnatural  for  men  to  act  without  any  re- 
':flection;  nay,  without  regard  to  that  particular  kind  of 
reflection  which  you  call  conscience;  because  this  does 
belong  to  our  nature.  For  as  there  never  was  a  man 
but  who  approved  one  place,  prospect,  building,  before 
another:  so  it  does  not  appear  that  there  ever  was  a  man 
who  would  not  have  approved  an  action  of  humanity 
rather  than  of  cruelty;  interest  and  passion  being  quite 
out  of  the  case.  But  interest  and  passion  do  come  in, 
and  are  often  too  strong  for  and  prevail  over  reflection 
and  conscience.  Now  as  brutes  have  various  instincts, 
by  which  they  are  carried  on  to  the  end  the  Author  of 
their  nature  intended  them  for:  is  not  man  in  the  same 
condition;  with  this  diflerence  only,  that  to  his  instincts 
(i.  e.  appetites  and  passions)  is  added  the  principle  of 
reflection  or  consciences^  And  as  brutes  act  agreeably 
to  their  nature,  in  following  that  principle  or  particular 
instinct  which  for  the  present  is  strongest  in  them:  does 
not  man  likewise  act  agreeably  to  his  nature,  or  obey  the 
law  of  his  creation,  by  following  that  principle,  be  it  pas- 
sion or  conscience,  which  for  the  present  happens  to  be 
strongest  in  him.^  Thus  diff*erent  men  are  by  their  par- 
ticular nature  hurried  on  to  pursue  honour,  or  riches,  or 
pleasure:  there  are  also  persons  whose  temper  leads 
them  in  an  uncommon  degree  to  kindness,  compassion, 
doing  good  to  their  f  How  creatures:  as  there  are  others 
who  are  given  to  suspend  their  judgment,  to  weigh  and 
consider  things,  and  to  act  upon  thought  and  reflection. 
Let  every  one  tlien  quietly  follow  his  nature;  as  passion, 
reflection,  appetite,  the  several  parts  of  it,  happen  to  be 
strongest:  but  let  not  the  man  of  virtue  take  upon  him 
to  blame  the  ambitious,  the  covetous,  the  dissolute;  since 
these  equally  with  him  obey  and  follow  tlu  ir  nature. 
Thus,  as  in  some  cases  we  follow  our  nature  in  doing 


40  UPON  HUMAN  NATURE.  [(^^r,  H.  / 

the  works  contained  in  the  law,  so  in  other  cases  we  fol- 
low nature  in  doing  contrary." 

Now  all  this  licentious  talk  entirel}^  goes  upon  a  sup- 
position, that  men  follow  their  nature  in  the  same  sense, 
in  violating  the  known  rules  of  justice  and  honesty  for 
the  sake  of  a  present  gratification,  as  they  do  in  following 
those  rules  when  they  have  no  temptation  to  the  contrary. 
And  if  this  w^ere  true,  that  could  not  be  so  which  St  Paul 
asserts,  that  men  are  hy  nature  a  law  to  tJiemselves.  If 
by  following  nature  w^ere  meant  only  acting  as  we  please, 
it  would  indeed  be  ridiculous  to  speak  of  nature  as .  any 
guide  in  morals:  nay  the  very  mention  of  deviating  from 
nature  would  be  absurd;  and  the  mention  of  following 
it,  when  spoken  by  way  of  distinction,  would  absolutely 
have  no  meaning.  For  did  ever  any  one  act  otherwise 
than  as  he  pleased?  And  yet  the  ancients  speak  of 
deviating  from  nature  as  vice;  and  of  following  nature 
so  much  as  a  distinction,  that  according  to  them  the  per- 
fection of  virtue  consists  therein.  So  that  language  itself 
should  teach  people  another  sense  to  the  words  following 
nature,  than  barely  acting  as  we  please.  Let  it  howevc  r 
be  observed,  that  though  the  words  human  nature  are  to 
be  explained,  yet  the  real  question  of  this  discourse  is 
not  concerning  the  meaning  of  words,  any  other  than  as 
the  explanation  of  them  may  be  needful  to  make  out  and 
explain  the  assertion,  that  every  man  is  naturally  a  law 
to  himself]  that  every  one  may  find  within  himself  the  rule 
of  right,  and  obligations  to  follow  it.  This  St  Paul  afRrnis 
in  the  words  of  the  text,  and  this  the  foregoing  objection 
really  denies  by  seeming  to  allow  it.  And  the  objection 
will  be  fully  answered,  and  the  text  before  us  explained, 
by  observing  that  nature  is  considered  in  different  views, 
and  the  word  used  in  different  senses;  and  by  showing 
in  what  view  it  is  considered,  and  in  what  sense  the 
word  is  used,  when  intended  to  express  and  signify  that 
which  is  the  guide  of  life,  that  by  which  men  are  a  law 
to  themselves.  I  say,  the  explanation  of  the  term  will 
be  sufficient,  because  from  thence  it  will  appear,  that  in 
some  senses  of  the  word  nature  cannot  be,  but  that  in 
another  sense  it  manifestly  is,  a  law  to  us. 

I.  By  nature  is  often  meant  no  more  than  some  prin- 


Skb.  II.]  UPON  HUMAN  NATURE.  41 

ciple  in  man,  without  regard  either  to  the  kind  or  degree 
of  it.  Thus  the  passion  of  anger,  and  the  affection  of 
parents  to  their  children,  would  be  called  equdiily  natural. 
And  as  the  same  person  hath  often  contrary  principles, 
which  at  the  same  time  draw  contrary  ways,  he  may  by 
the  same  action  both  follow  and  contradict  his  nature  in 
this  sense  of  the  word;  he  may  follow  one  passion  and 
contradict  another. 

II.  Nature  is  frequently  spoken  of  as  consisting  in 
those  passions  which  are  strongest,  and  most  influence 
the  actions;  which  being  vicious  ones,  mankind  is  in 
this  sense  naturally  vicious,  or  vicious  by  nature.  Thus 
St  Paul  says  of  the  Gentiles,  who  were  dead  in  trespasses 
and  sinSy  and  walked  according  to  the  spirit  of  disobedience y. 
tJiat  they  were  by  nature  the  children  of  wrath*  They 
could  be  no  otherwise  children  of  wrath  by  nature,  thaa 
they  were  vicious  by  nature. 

Here  then  are  two  different  senses  of  the  word  nature, 
in  neither  of  which  men  can  at  all  be  said  to  be  a  law  to 
themselves.  They  are  mentioned  only  to  be  excluded; 
to  prevent  their  being  confounded,  as  the  latter  is  in  thf^ 
objection,  with  another  sense  of  it,  which  is  now  to  be 
inquired  after  and  explained. 

III.  The  apostle  asserts,  that  the  Gentiles  do  by  na- 
ture the  things  contained  in  the  lav).  Nature  is  indeed 
here  put  by  way  of  distinction  from  revelation,  but  yet  it 
is  not  a  mere  negative.  He  intends  to  express  more 
than  that  by  which  they  did  not^  that  by  which  they  did 
the  works  of  the  law;  namely,  by  nature.  It  is  plain 
the  meaning  of  the  word  is  not  the  same  in  this  passage 
as  in  the  former,  where  it  is  spoken  of  as  evil;  for  in 
this  latter  it  is  spoken  of  as  good;  as  that  bv  which  they 
acted,  or  might  have  acted  virtuously.  What  that  is  in 
man  by  which  he  is  naturally  a  law  to  himself  is  ex- 
plained in  the  following  words:  Which  shew  the  tvork  of 
the  law  written  in  their  hearts,  their  consciences  also  bear- 
ing witness,  and  their  thoughts  the  mean  while  accusing  or 
else  excusing  one  another.  If  there  be  a  distinction  to  be 
nifide  between  the  works  written  in  their  hearts,  and  the 
Witness  of  conscience;  by  the  former  must  be  meant  the 


*  Kphrs.  ii. 


42  UPON  HUMAN  NA'i  Ui.  [Ser.  II 

natural  disposition  to  kindness  and  compassion,  to  do 
what  is  of  good  report,  to  which  this  apostle  often  refers: 
that  part  of  the  nature  of  man,  treated  of  in  the  foregoing 
discourse,  which  with  very  Uttie  reflection  and  of  course 
leads  him  to  society,  and  by  means  of  which  he  naturally 
acts  a  just  and  good  part  in  it,  unless  other  passions  or 
interests  lead  him  astray.  Yet  since  other  passions,  and 
regards  to  private  interest,  which  lead  us  (though  in- 
directly, yet  they  lead  us)  astray,  are  themselves  in  a 
degree  equally  natural,  and  often  most  prevalent;  and 
since  we  have  no  method  of  seeing  the  particular  de- 
grees in  which  one  or  the  other  is  placed  in  us  by 
nature;  it  is  plain  the  former,  considered  merely  as 
natural,  good  and  right  as  they  are,  can  no  more  be  a 
law  to  us  than  the  latter.  But  there  is  a  superior  prin- 
ciple of  reflection  or  conscience  in  every  man,  which 
distinguishes  between  the  internal  principles  of  his  heart, 
as  well  as  his  external  actions:  which  passes  judgment 
upon  himself  and  them;  pronounces  determinately  some 
actions  to  be  in  themselves  just,  right,  good;  others  to 
be  in  themselves  evil,  wrong,  unjust :  which,  without 
being  consulted,  without  being  advised  with,  magiste- 
rially exerts  itself,  and  approves  or  condemns  him  the 
doer  of  them  accordingly :  and  which,  if  not  forcibly 
stopped,  naturally  and  always  of  course  goes  on  to  an- 
ticipate a  higher  and  more  effectual  sentence,  which  shall 
hereafter  second  and  affirm  its  own.  But  this  part  of 
the  office  of  conscience  is  beyond  my  present  design 
explicitly  to  consider.  It  is  by  this  faculty,  natural  to 
man,  that  he  is  a  moral  agent,  that  he  is  a  law  to  him- 
self :  but  this  faculty,  I  say,  not  to  be  considered  merely 
as  a  principle  in  his  heart,  which  is  to  have  some  in- 
fluence as  well  as  others ;  but  considered  as  a  faculty  in 
kind  and  in  nature  supreme  over  all  others,  and  which 
bears  its  own  authority  of  being  so. 

This  'prerogative,  this  natural  supremacy,  of  the  faculty 
which  surveys,  approves  or  disapproves  the  several  affec- 
tions of  our  mind  and  actions  of  our  lives,  being  that  by 
which  men  are  a  lav)  to  themselves,  their  conformity  or 
disobedience  to  which  law  of  our  nature  renders  their 
actions,  in  the  highest  and  most  proper  sense,  natural  or 


Skb.!!.]  upon  human  NATURE.  43 

unnatural;  it  is  fit  it  be  further  explained  to  you:  and  I 
hope  it  will  be  so,  if  you  will  attend  to  the  following 
reflections. 

Man  may  act  according  to  that  principle  or  inclina- 
tion which  for  the  present  happens  to  be  strongest,  and 
yet  act  in  a  way  disproportionate  to,  and  violate  his  real 
proper  nature.  Suppose  a  brute  creature  by  any  bait  to 
be  allured  into  a  snare,  by  which  he  is  destroyed.  He 
plainly  followed  the  bent  of  his  nature,  leading  him  to 
gratify  his  appetite:  there  is  an  entire  correspondence 
between  his  whole  nature  and  such  an  action:  such 
■action  therefore  is  natural.  But  suppose  a  man,  fore- 
seeing the  same  danger  of  certain  ruin,  should  rush  into 
it  for  the  sake  of  a  present  gratification;  he  in  this  in- 
stance would  follow  his  strongest  desire,  as  did  the  brute 
creature:  but  there  would  be  as  manifest  a  disproportion, 
between  the  nature  of  a  man  and  such  an  action,  as 
between  the  meanest  w^ork  of  art  and  the  skill  of  the 
greatest  master  in  that  art:  which  disproportion  arises, 
not  from  considering  the  action  singly  in  itself,  or  in  its 
consequences ;  but  from  comparison  of  it  with  the  nature 
of  the  agent.  And  since  such  an  action  is  utterly  dis- 
proportionate to  the  nature  of  man,  it  is  in  the  strictest 
and  most  proper  sense  unnatural;  this  word  expressing 
that  disproportion.  Therefore  instead  of  the  words  dis- 
proportionate to  his  nature,  the  word  unnatural  may  now 
•be  ])ut;  this  being  more  familiar  to  us:  but  let  it  be 
observed,  that  it  stands  for  the  same  thing  precisely. 

Now  what  is  it  which  renders  such  a  rash  action 
unnatural?  Is  it  that  he  went  against  the  principle  of 
reasonable  and  cool  self-love,  considered  merely  as  a 
part  of  his  nature?  No:  for  if  he  had  acted  the  con- 
trary way,  he  would  equally  have  gone  against  a  princi- 
•pie,  or  part  of  hi<;  nature,  namely,  passion  or  appetite. 
But  to  deny  a  present  ap])etite,  from  foresight  that  the 
gratification  of  it  would  end  in  immediate  ruin  or  extreme 
misery,  is  by  no  means  an  unnatural  action;  whereas  to 
contradict  or  go  against  cool  self-love  for  tlie  sake  of 
such  gratification,  is  so  in  the  instance  before  us.  Such 
an  action  then  being  unnatural;  and  its  being  so  not 
arising  from  a  man's  going  against  a  principle  or  desire 


44  UPON  HUMAN  NATURE.  [Ser.  11. 

barely,  nor  in  going  against  that  principle  or  desire  which 
happens  for  the  present  to  be  strongest;  it  necessarily 
follows,  that  there  must  be  some  other  difference  or 
distinction  to  be  made  between  these  two  principles, 
passion  and  cool  self-love,  than  what  I  have  yet  taken 
notice  of.  And  this  difference,  not  being  a  difference  in 
strength  or  degree,  I  call  a  difference  in  nature  and  in 
kind.  And  since,  in  the  instance  still  before  us,  if  pas- 
sion prevails  over  self-love,  the  consequent  action  is 
unnatural ;  but  if  self-love  prevails  over  passion,  the  ac- 
tion is  natural;  it  is  manifest  that  self-love  is  in  human 
nature  a  superior  principle  to  passion.  This  may  be 
contradicted  without  violating  that  nature ;  but  the  for- 
mer cannot.  So  that,  if  we  will  act  conformably  to  the 
economy  of  man's  nature,  reasonable  self-love  must 
govern.  Thus,  without  particular  consideration  of  con- 
science, we  may  have  a  clear  conception  of  the  superior 
nature  of  one  inward  principle  to  another;  and  see  that 
there  really  is  this  natural  superiority,  quite  distinct  from 
degrees  of  strength  and  prevalency. 

Let  us  now  take  a  view  of  the  nature  of  man,  as  con- 
sisting partly  of  various  appetites,  passions,  affections, 
and  partly  of  the  principle  of  reflection  or  conscience; 
leaving  quite  out  all  consideration  of  the  different  degrees 
of  strength,  in  which  either  of  them  prevail,  and  it  will 
further  appear  that  there  is  this  natural  superiority  of 
one  inward  principle  to  another,  and  that  it  is  even  part 
of  the  idea  of  reflection  or  conscience. 

Passion  or  appetite  implies  a  direct  simple  tendency 
towards  such  and  such  objects,  without  distinction  of  the 
means  by  which  they  are  to  be  obtained.  Consequently 
it  will  often  happen  there  will  be  a  desire  of  particular 
objects,  in  cases  where  they  cannot  be  obtained  without 
manifest  injury  to  others.  Reflection  or  conscience  comes 
in,  and  disapproves  the  pursuit  of  them  in  these  circum- 
stances; but  the  desire  remains.  Which  is  to  be  obeyed, 
appetite  or  reflection  ?  Cannot  this  question  be  answered, 
from  the  economy  and  constitution  of  human  nature  mere- 
ly, without  saying  which  is  strongest.^  Or  need  this  at  all 
come  into  consideration. ^  Would  not  the  question  be 
intelliyihly  and  fully  answered  by  saying,  that  the  prin- 


Sbb.  II.]  UPON  HUMAN  NATURE.  ^5 

ciple  of  reflection  or  conscience  being  compared  with 
the  various  appetites,  passions,  and  affections  in  men, 
the  former  is  manifestly  superior  and  chief,  vathout  le- 
gard  to  strength?  And  how  often  soever  the  latter 
happens  to  prevail,  it  is  mere  usurpation:  the  former  re- 
mains in  nature  and  in  kind  its  superior;  and  every 
instance  of  such  prevalence  of  the  latter  is  an  instance 
of  breaking  in  upon  and  violation  of  the  constitution  of 
man. 

All  this  is  no  more  than  the  distinction,  which  every- 
body is  acquainted  with,  between  mere  power  and  autho- 
rity:  only  instead  of  being  intended  to  express  the  dif- 
ference betw^een  what  is  possible,  and  what  is  lawful  in 
civil  government ;  here  it  has  been  shown  applicable  to 
the  several  principles  in  the  mind  of  man.  Thus  that 
principle,  by  which  w^e  survey,  and  either  approve  or 
disapprove  our  own  heart,  temper,  and  actions,  is  not 
only  to  be  considered  as  what  is  in  its  turn  to  have  some 
influence;  which  may  be  said  of  every  passion,  of  the 
lowest  appetites:  but  likewise  as  being  superior;  as  from 
its  very  nature  manifestly  claiming  superiority  over  all 
others;  insomuch  that  you  cannot  form  a  notion  of  this 
faculty,  conscience,  without  taking  in  judgment,  direc- 
tion, superintendency.  This  is  a  constituent  part  of  the 
idea,  that  is,  of  the  faculty  itself:  and,  to  preside  and  go- 
vern, from  the  very  economy  and  constitution  of  man, 
belongs  to  it.  Had  it  strength,  as  it  had  right:  had  it 
power,  as  it  had  manifest  authority,  it  w^ould  absolutely 
govern  the  w^orld. 

This  gives  us  a  further  view  of  the  nature  of  man  ; 
shows  us  what  course  of  life  we  were  made  for:  not  only 
that  our  real  nature  leads  us  to  be  influenced  in  some 
degree  by  reflection  and  conscience;  but  likewise  in  what 
degree  we  are  to  be  influenced  by  it,  if  we  will  fall  in  with, 
and  act  agreeably  to  the  constitution  of  our  nature:  that 
this  faculty  was  placed  within  to  be  our  proper  governor; 
to  direct  and  regulate  all  under  principles,  passions,  and 
motives  of  action.  This  is  its  right  and  office:  thus 
sacred  is  its  authority.  And  how  often  soever  men 
violate  and  rebelliously  refuse  to  submit  to  it,  for  sup- 
posed interest  which  they  cannot  otherwise  obtain,  or 


40  UPON  HUMAN  NATURE.  [Ser.  II. 

for  the  sake  of  passion  which  they  cannot  otherwise 
gratify ;  this  makes  no  alteration  as  to  the  natural  right 
and  office  of  conscience. 

Let  us  now  turn  this  whole  matter  another  way,  and 
suppose  there  was  no  such  thing  at  all  as  this  natural 
supremacy  of  conscience;  that  there  was  no  distinction 
to  be  made  between  one  inward  principle  and  another, 
but  only  that  of  strength;  and  see  what  would  be  the 
consequence. 

Consider  then  what  is  the  latitude  and  compass  of  Che 
actions  of  man  with  regard  to  himself,  his  fellow  crea- 
tures, and  the  Supreme  Being. ^  What  are  their  bounds, 
besides  that  of  our  natural  power?  With  respect  to  the 
two  first,  they  are  plainly  no  other  than  these ;  no  man 
seeks  misery  as  such  for  himself;  and  no  one  unprovoked 
does  mischief  to  another  for  its  own  sake.  For  in  every 
degree  within  these  bounds,  mankind  knowingly  from 
passion  or  wantonness  bring  ruin  and  misery  upon  them- 
selves and  others.  And  impiety  and  profaneness,  I 
mean,  what  everv  one  would  call  so  who  believes  the 
being  of  God,  have  absolutely  no  bounds  at  all.  Men 
blaspheme  the  Author  of  nature,  formally  and  in  words 
renounce  their  allegiance  to  their  Creator.  Put  an  in- 
stance then  with  respect  to  any  one  of  these  three. 
Though  we  should  suppose  profane  swearing,  and  in 
general  that  kind  of  impiety  now  mentioned,  to  mean 
nothing,  yet  it  implies  wanton  disregard  and  irreverence 
towards  an  infinite  Being,  our  Creator;  and  is  this  as 
suitable  to  the  nature  of  man,  as  reverence  and  dutiful 
submission  of  heart  towards  that  Almighty  Being. ^  Or 
suppose  a  man  guilty  of  parricide,  with  all  the  circum- 
stances of  cruelty  which  such  an  action  can  admit  of. 
This  action  is  done  in  consequence  of  its  principle  being 
for  the  present  strongest:  and  if  there  be  no  difference 
between  inward  principles,  but  only  that  of  strength;  the 
strength  being  given,  you  have  the  whole  nature  of  the 
man  given,  so  far  as  it  relates  to  this  matter.  The  ac- 
tion plainly  corresponds  to  the  principle,  the  principle 
being  in  that  degree  of  strength  it  was:  it  therefore  cor- 
responds to  the  whole  nature  of  the  man.  Upon  com- 
paring the  action  and  the  whole  nature,  there  arises  no 


Sia.  III.] 


UPON  HUMAN  NATURE. 


47 


disproportion,  there  appears  no  unsuitableness  bet^^een 
them.  Thus  the  murder  of  a  father  and  the  nature  of 
man  correspond  to  each  other,  as  the  same  nature  and 
an  act  of  filial  duty.  If  there  be  no  difference  between 
inward  principles,  but  only  that  of  strength;  we  can 
make  no  distinction  between  these  two  actions,  con- 
sidered as  the  actions  of  such  a  creature;  but  in  our 
coolest  hours  must  approve  or  disapprove  them  equally: 
than  which  nothing  can  be  reduced  to  a  greater  absurd- 
ity. 

SERMON  III. 

The  natural  supremacy  of  reflection  or  conscience  being 
thus  established;  we  may  from  it  form  a  distinct  notion 
of  what  is  meant  by  human  nature^  when  virtue  is  said 
to  consist  in  following  it,  and  vice  in  deviating  from  it. 

As  the  idea  of  a  civil  constitution  implies  in  it  united 
strength,  various  subordinations,  under  one  direction, 
that  of  the  supreme  authority ;  tlie  different  strength  of 
each  particular  member  of  the  society  not  coming  into 
the  idea ;  whereas,  if  you  leave  out  the  subordination, 
the  union,  and  the  one  direction,  you  destroy  and  lose 
it:  so  reason,  several  appetites,  passions,  and  affections^ 
prevailing  in  different  degrees  of  strength,  is  not  that 
idea  or  notion  oi  human  nature;  but  that  nature  consists 
in  these  several  principles  considered  as  having  a  natural 
respect  to  each  other,  in  the  several  passions  beinir 
naturally  subordinate  to  the  one  superior  principle  ol 
reflection  or  conscience.  Every  bias,  instinct,  propen- 
sion  within,  is  a  natural  part  of  our  nature,  but  not  the 
whol':  add  to  these  the  superior  facultv,  whose  office  it 
is  to  adjust,  manage,  and  preside  over  them,  and  take 
in  this  its  natural  superiority,  and  you  complete  the  idea 
of  human  nature.  And  as  in  civil  government  the  co?i- 
stitution  is  broken  in  upon,  and  violated  by  j)ower  and 
strength  prevailing  over  authority  ;  so  the  constitution 
of  man  is  broken  in  upon  and  violated  by  the  lower 
faculties  or  princi|)lcs  within  prevailing  over  that  which 
is  in  its  nature  supreme  over  them  all.  Thus,  when  it  is 
said  by  ancient  writers,  that  tortures  and  death  are  not 


48 


UPON  HUMAN  NATURE. 


[Skr.  III. 


SO  contrary  to  human  nature  as  injustice ;  by  this  to  tyi 
sure  is  not  meant,  that  the  aversion  to  the  former  in 
mankind  is  less  strong  and  prevalent  than  their  aversion 
to  the  latter :  but  that  the  former  is  only  contrary  to  our 
nature  considered  in  a  partial  view,  and  which  takes  in 
only  the  lowest  part  of  it,  that  which  we  have  in  com- 
mon with  the  brutes ;  whereas  the  latter  is  contrary  to 
our  nature,  considered  in  a  higher  sense,  as  a  system 
and  constitution  contrarv  to  the  whole  economv  of  man.* 

And  from  all  these  things  put  together,  nothing  can 
be  more  evident,  than  that,  exclusive  of  revelation,  man 
cannot  be  considered  as  a  creature  left  by  his  Maker  to 
act  at  random,  and  live  at  large  up  to  the  extent  of  his 
natural  power,  as  passion,  humour,  wilfulness,  happen 
to  carry  him  ;  which  is  the  condition  brute  creatures 
are  in  :  but  that  from  his  make,  constitution,  or  nature^ 
he  is  in  the  strictest  and  most  proper  sense  a  law  to  him- 
self.  He  hath  the  rule  of  right  within:  what  is  wanting 
is  only  that  he  honestly  attend  to  it. 

The  inquiries  which  have  been  made  by  men  of  lei- 

*  Every  man  in  his  pliysical  nature  is  one  individual  sing-le  aj^pnt.  He  has  like- 
wise pn)p«'rties  and  principles,  each  of  wiiich  may  be  considered  separately,  and 
without  reg  ard  to  the  n  spects  which  they  have  to  each  other.  Neither  of  these  are 
the  nature  we  are  takiujf  a  view  of.  But  it  is  the  inward  frame  of  man  considered 
as  a  system  or  constitution  :  whose  several  parts  are  miited,  not  by  a  physicrd  princi- 
ple ot  individual  ion,  but  by  the  respects  they  liave  to  each  other  ;  the  cliief  of  wliich 
is  the  subjection  whicii  the  appetites,  passions,  and  particular  affections  have  to  the 
one  supreiur  principle  of  nflection  or  conscience.  The  system  or  constitution  is 
form^ii  by  anil  consists  in  these  respects  and  this  subjection.  Thus  the  body  is  a 
system  or  constitution :  so  is  a  tree  :  so  is  every  machine.  Consider  all  the  several 
parts  of  a  tree  witliout  the  natural  respects  they  have  to  each  other,  and  you  have 
not  at  all  the  idea  of  a  free;  but  add  these  respects,  and  this  gives  you  the  idea. 
TIk-  body  may  be  impaired  l)y  sickness,  a  tree  may  decay,  a  machine  be  out  of  order, 
atid  yet  the  system  and  constitution  of  them  not  totally  dissolved.  There  is  plainly 
soinrwhiit  wmch  answers  to  all  this  in  the  moral  constitution  of  man.  Whoever  \.vill 
consider  his  own  natur*',  will  see  that  the  several  appetites,  passions,  and  particular 
alfrdions,  iiave  dilierent  res{>ects  amongst  themselves.  They  are  restraints  upon, 
and  are  in  a  proportion  to  each  other.  This  proportion  is  just  and  perfect,  when  all 
those  under  principles  nre  perfectly  coincident  with  conscience,  so  far  as  their  nature 
permits,  and  in  all  cuses  under  its  absolute  and  entire  direction.  The  least  excess  or 
defect,  ttie  least  alteration  of  the  due  [)roportions  amongst  themselves,  or  of  their 
couicidence  with  co;. science,  tliough  not  proc(  etiing  into  action,  is  some  di  gree  of 
disorder  in  the  moral  constitution.  But  jjerfection,  though  plainly  intelligible  alW 
unsiipposable,  was  never  HtUiined  by  any  man.  If  the  higher  principle  of  reflection 
maintains  its  phice.  a;id  as  much  as  it  l  an  corrects  that  disorder,  and  hinders  it  from 
breaking  out  into  action,  this  is  all  that  can  be  expected  from  such  a  creature  as  man. 
And  tiioiigli  the  appetites  and  passions  have  not  their  exact  dtie  proportion  to  each 
other;  tliough  they  often  strive  fo.  mastery  with  judgment  or  reflection  :  yet,  since 
U)e  superiority  of  this  })rinc:iple  lo  all  others  is  I  lie  chief  resp(  ct  which  forms  the 
constitution,  so  far  as  this  superiuriiy  is  maintained,  tlie  character,  the  man,  is  good, 
worlliy,  virtuous. 


SO.IIT.J  UPON  HUMAN  NATURE.  49 

sure  after  some  general  rule,  the  conformity  to,  or  dis- 
agreement from  which,  should  denominate  our  actions 
good  or  evil,  are  in  many  respects  of  great  service.  Yet 
let  any  plain  honest  man,  before  he  engages  in  any 
course  of  action,  ask  himself,  Is  this  I  am  going  about 
right,  or  is  it  wrong  ?  Is  it  good,  or  is  it  evil  ?  I  do 
not  in  the  least  doubt,  but  that  this  question  would  be 
answered  agreeably  to  truth  and  virtue,  by  almost  any 
fair  man  in  almost  any  circumstance.  Neither  do  there 
appear  any  cases  which  look  hke  exceptions  to  this; 
but  those  of  superstition,  and  of  partiahty  to  ourselves. 
Superstition  may  perhaps  be  somewhat  of  an  excep- 
tion: but  partiality  to  ourselves  is  not;  this  being  itself 
dishonesty.  For  a  man  to  judge  that  to  be  the  equita- 
ble, the  moderate,  the  right  part  for  him  to  act,  which 
he  would  see  to  be  hard,  unjust,  oppressive  in  another; 
this  is  plain  vice,  and  can  proceed  only  from  great  un- 
fairness of  mind. 

But  allowing  that  mankind  hath  the  rule  of  right  within 
himself,  yet  it  may  be  asked,  What  obligations  are  we 
under  to  attend  to  and  follow  it.^"  I  answer:  it  has 
been  proved  that  man  by  his  nature  is  a  law  to  himself, 
without  the  particuhir  distinct  consideration  of  the  posi- 
tive sanctions  of  that  law ;  the  rewards  and  punishments 
Avhich  we  feel,  and  those  which  from  the  light  of  reason 
we  have  ground  to  believe,  are  annexed  to  it.  The 
question  then  carries  its  own  answer  along  with  it. 
Your  obligation  to  obey  this  law,  is  its  being  the  law  of 
your  nature.  That  your  conscience  approves  of  and 
attests  to  such  a  course  of  action,  is  itself  alone  an  obli- 
gation. Conscience  does  not  only  offer  itself  to  show 
us  the  way  we  should  walk  in,  but  it  likewise  carries  its 
own  authority  with  it,  that  it  is  our  natural  guide  ;  the 
guide  assigned  us  by  the  Author  of  our  nature:  it  there- 
fore belongs  to  our  condition  of  being,  it  is  our  duty  lo 
walk  in  that  path,  and  follow  this  guide,  without  looking 
about  to  see  whether  wc  may  not  possibly  forsake  them 
with  impunity. 

However,  let  us  hear  what  is  to  be  said  against  ()])oy- 
ing  this  law  of  our  nature.  And  the  smn  is  no  more 
than  this.    "Why  shoujd  wc  be  concerned  about  any 

D 


50  UPON  HUMAN  NATURE.  [Ser.  III.  . 

thing  out  of  and  beyond  ourselves  ?  If  we  do  find  with- 
in ourselves  regards  to  others,  and  restraints  of  we  know 
not  how  many  different  kinds;  yet  these  being  embar- 
rassments, and  hindering  us  from  going  the  nearest  way 
to  our  own  good,  why  should  we  not  endeavour  to  sup- 
press and  get  over  them?" 

Thus  people  go  on  with  words,  which,  when  applied 
to  human  nature,  and  the  condition  in  which  it  is  placed 
in  this  world,  have  really  no  meaning.  For  does  not 
all  this  kind  of  talk  go  upon  supposition,  that  our  hap- 
piness in  this  world  consists  in  somewhat  quite  distinct 
from  regard  to  others ;  and  that  it  is  the  privilege  of  vice 
to  be  without  restraint  or  confinement  ?  Whereas,  on 
the  contrary,  the  enjoyments,  in  a  manner  all  the  com- 
mon enjoyments  of  life,  even  the  pleasures  of  vice,  de- 
pend upon  these  regards  of  one  kind  or  another  to  our 
fellow  creatures.  Throw  off  all  regards  to  others,  and 
we  should  be  quite  indifferent  to  infamy  and  to  honour; 
there  could  be  no  such  thing  at  all  as  ambition;  and 
scarce  any  such  thing  as  covetousness ;  for  we  should 
likewise  be  equally  indifferent  to  the  disgrace  of  poverty, 
the  several  neglects  and  kinds  of  contempt  which  accom- 
pany this  state  ;  and  to  the  reputation  of  riches,  the  re- 
gard and  respect  they  usually  procure.  Neither  is  re- 
straint by  any  means  peculiar  to  one  course  of  life :  but 
our  very  nature,  exclusive  of  conscience  and  our  condi- 
tion, lays  us  under  an  absolute  necessity  of  it.  We  can- 
not gain  any  end  whatever  without  being  confined  to  the 
proper  means,  which  is  often  the  most  painful  and  un- 
easy confinement.  And  in  numberless  instances  a  pre- 
sent appetite  cannot  be  gratified  without  such  apparent 
and  immediate  ruin  and  misery,  that  the  most  dissolute 
man  in  the  world  chooses  to  forego  the  pleasure,  rather 
than  endure  the  pain. 

Is  the  meaning  then,  to  indulge  those  regards  to  our 
fellow  creatures,  and  submit  to  those  restraints,  which 
upon  the  whole  are  attended  with  more  satisfaction  than 
uneasiness,  and  get  over  only  those  which  bring  more 
uneasiness  and  inconvenience  than  satisfaction?  Doubt- 
less this  was  our  meaning."  You  have  changed  sides 
then.    Keep  to  this  ;  be  consistent  with  yourselves;  and 


gjR^IlI.-j  UPON  HUMAN  NATURE.  51 

you  and  the  men  of  virtue  are  in  general  perfectly  agreed. 
Bat  let  us  take  care  and  avoid  mistakes.  Let  it  not  te 
taken  for  granted  that  the  temper  of  envy,  rage,  resent- 
ment, yields  greater  delight  than  meekness,  forgiveness, 
compassion,  and  good-will:  especially  when  it  is  acknow- 
ledged that  rage,  envy,  resentment,  are  in  themselves 
mere  misery;  and  the  satisfaction  arising  from  the  indul- 
gence of  them  is  little  more  than  relief  from  that  misery; 
whereas  the  temper  of  compassion  and  benevolence 
is  itself  delightful ;  and  the  indulgence  of  it,  by  do- 
ing good,  affords  new  positive  delight  and  enjoyment. 
Let  it  not  be  taken  for  granted,  that  the  satisfaction  aris- 
ing from  the  reputation  of  riches  and  power,  however 
obtained,  and  from  the  respect  paid  to  them,  is  greater 
than  the  satisfaction  arising  from  the  reputation  of  jus- 
tice, honesty,  charity,  and  the  esteem  which  is  universally 
acknowledged  to  be  their  due.  And  if  it  be  doubtful 
which  of  these  satisfactions  is  the  greatest,  as  there  are 
persons  who  think  neither  of  them  very  considerable, 
yet  there  can  be  no  doubt  concerning  ambition  and 
covetousness,  virtue  and  a  good  mind,  considered  in 
themselves,  and  as  leading  to  different  courses  of  life; 
there  can,  I  say,  be  no  doubt,  which  temper  and  which 
course  is  attended  with  most  peace  and  tranquilhty  of 
mind,  which  with  most  perplexity,  vexation,  and  incon- 
venience. And  both  the  virtues  and  vices  which  have 
been  now  mentioned,  do  in  a  manner  equally  imply  in 
tliem  regards  of  one  kind  or  another  to  our  fellow  crea- 
tures. And  with  respect  to  restraint  and  confinement: 
whoever  will  consider  the  restraints  from  fear  and  shame, 
the  dissimulation,  mean  arts  of  concealment,  servile 
compliances,  one  or  other  of  which  belong  to  almost  every 
course  of  vice,  will  soon  be  convinced  that  the  man  of 
virtue  is  by  no  means  upon  a  disadvantage  in  this  re- 
spect. How  many  instances  are  there  in  which  men 
feel  and  own  and  cry  aloud  under  the  chains  of  vice 
with  which  they  are  enthralled,  and  which  yet  they  will 
not  shake  off!  How  many  instances,  in  which  persons 
manifestly  go  through  more  pains  and  self-denial  to 
gratify  a  vicious  passion,  than  would  have  been  neces- 
sary to  the  concjuest  of  it!    To  this  is  to  be  added,  that 

D8 


52  UPON  HUMAN  NATURE.  [s^.  ni. 

when  virtue  is  become  habitual,  when  the  temper  of  it 
is  acquired,  what  was  before  confinement  ceases  to  be 
so,  by  becoming  choice  and  delight.  Whatever  re- 
straint and  guard  upon  ourselves  may  be  needful  to 
unlearn  any  unnatural  distortion  or  odd  gesture;  yet, 
in  all  propriety  of  speech,  natural  behaviour  must  be 
the  most  easy  and  unrestrained.  It  is  manifest  that,  in 
the  common  course  of  life,  there  is  seldom  any  incon- 
sistency between  our  duty  and  what  is  called  interest:  it 
is  much  seldomer  that  there  is  an  inconsistency  between 
duty  and  what  is  really  our  present  interest;  meaning 
by  interest,  happiness  and  satisfaction.  Self-love  then, 
though  confined  to  the  interest  of  the  present  world, 
does  in  general  perfectly  coincide  with  virtue;  and  leads 
us  to  one  and  the  same  course  of  life.  But,  whatever 
exceptions  there  are  to  this,  which  are  much  fewer  than 
they  are  commonly  thought,  all  shall  be  set  right  at  the 
final  distribution  of  things.  It  is  a  manifest  absurdity 
to  suppose  evil  prevailing  finally  over  good,  under  the 
conduct  and  administration  of  a  perfect  mind. 

The  whole  argument,  which  I  have  been  now  insist- 
ing upon,  may  be  thus  summed  up,  and  given  you  in 
one  view.  The  nature  of  man,  is  adapted  to  some  course 
of  action  or  other.  Upon  comparing  some  actions  with 
this  nature,  they  appear  suitable  and  correspondent  to 
it:  from  comparison  of  other  actions  with  the  same  na- 
ture, there  arises  to  our  view  some  unsuitableness  or 
disproportion.  The  correspondence  of  actions  to  the 
nature  of  the  agent  renders  them  natural:  their  dispro- 
portion to  it,  unnatural.  That  an  action  is  correspon- 
dent to  the  nature  of  the  agent,  does  not  arise  from  its 
being  agreeable  to  the  principle  which  happens  to  be 
the  strongest:  for  it  may  be  so,  and  yet  be  quite  dispro- 
portionate to  the  nature  of  the  agent.  The  correspon- 
dence therefore,  or  disproportion,  arises  from  somewhat 
else.  This  can  be  nothing  but  a  difference  in  nature 
and  kind,  altogether  distinct  from  strength,  between  the 
inward  principles.  Some  then  are  in  nature  and  kind 
superior  to  others.  And  the  correspondence  arises  from 
the  action  being  conformable  to  the  higher  principle; 
and  the  unsuitableness  from  its  being  contrary  to  it. 


Se2i.  IV.]  UPON  THE  GOVERNMENT,  ETC.  53 

Reasonable  self-love  and  conscience  are  the  chief  or 
superior  principles  in  the  nature  of  man:  because  an 
action  may  be  suitable  to  this  nature,  though  all  other 
principles  be  violated;  but  becomes  unsuitable,  if  either 
of  those  are.  Conscience  and  self-love,  if  we  understand 
our  true  happiness,  always  lead  us  the  same  way.  Duty 
and  interest  are  perfectly  coincident:  for  the  most  part 
in  this  world,  but  entirely  and  in  every  instance  if  we 
take  in  the  future,  and  the  whole  ;  this  being  implied  in 
the  notion  of  a  good  and  perfect  administration  of  things. 
Thus  they  who  have  been  so  wise  in  their  generation  as 
to  regard  only  their  own  supposed  interest,  at  the  ex- 
pense and  to  the  injury  of  others,  shall  at  last  find,  that 
he  who  has  given  up  all  the  advantages  of  the  present 
world,  rather  than  violate  his  conscience  and  the  rela- 
tions of  hfe,  has  infinitely  better  provided  for  himself, 
and  secured  his  own  interest  and  happiness. 


SERMON  IV. 

UPON  THE  GOVERNMENT  OF  THE  TONGUE. 

If  any  man  among  you  scrm  to  he  rdujidLS,  and  hridleth  not  his 
tonr/ur,  but  dccciveth  his  own  hearty  this  mans  religion  is  vaiiu — 
James  i.  26. 

The  translation  of  this  text  would  be  more  determinate 
by  being  more  Hteral,  thus:  Ifaiuj  man  amoncj  you  sremefh 
to  he  reh'yiouSy  not  bridling  his  tongue,  but  deceiving  his  oirn 
heart,  this  man9>  religion  is  vain.  This  determines,  that 
the  words,  but  deceiveth  his  oirn  heart,  arc  not  put  in  op- 
position to,  seemeth  to  be  religious,  but  to,  bridlcth  not  his 
tongue.  The  certain  determinate  meaning  of  the  text 
then  being,  that  he  who  seemi  th  to  be  religious,  and 
bridleth  not  his  tongue,  but  in  that  particular  deceiveth 
his  own  heart,  this  man's  religion  is  vain;  we  may  ob- 
serve somewhat  very  forcible  and  expressive  in  these 
words  of  St  James.  As  if  the  apostle  had  said.  No  man 
surely  can  make  any  pretences  to  religion,  who  does  not 
at  least  believe  that'he  bridlcth  his  tongue:  if  he  puts  on 


54  UPON  THE  GOVERNMENT  [Seb.  IV. 

any  appearance  or  face  of  religion,  and  yet  does  not 
govern  his  tongue,  he  must  surely  deceive  himself  in 
that  particular,  and  think  he  does:  and  whoever  is  so 
unhappy  as  to  deceive  himself  in  this,  to  imagine  he 
keeps  that  unruly  faculty  in  due  subjection,  when  indeed 
he  does  not,  whatever  the  other  part  of  his  life  be,  his 
religion  is  vain;  the  government  of  the  tongue  being  a 
most  material  restraint  which  virtue  lays  us  under:  with- 
out it  no  man  can  be  truly  religious. 

In  treating  upon  this  subject,  I  will  consider. 

First,  What  is  the  general  vice  or  fault  here  referred 
to :  or  what  disposition  in  men  is  supposed  in  moral  re- 
flections and  precepts  concerning  bridling  the  tongue. 

Secondly,  When  it  may  be  said  of  any  one,  that  he 
has  a  due  government  over  himself  in  this  respect. 

I.  Now  the  fault  referred  to,  and  the  disposition  sup- 
posed, in  precepts  and  reflections  concerning  the  govern- 
ment of  the  tongue,  is  not  evil-speaking  from  malice, 
nor  lying  or  bearing  false  witness  from  indirect  selfish 
designs.  The  disposition  to  these,  and  the  actual  vices 
themselves,  all  come  under  other  subjects.  The  tongue 
may  be  employed  about,  and  mad#  to  serve  all  the  pur- 
poses of  vice,  in  tempting  and  deceiving,  in  perjury  and 
injustice.  But  the  thing  here  supposed  and  referred  to,  is 
talkativeness:  a  disposition  to  be  talking,  abstracted  from 
the  consideration  of  what  is  to  be  said;  with  very  little 
or  no  regard  to,  or  thought  of  doing,  either  good  or 
harm.  And  let  not  any  imagine  this  to  be  a  slight 
matter,  and  that  it  deserves  not  to  have  so  great  weight 
laid  upon  it;  till  he  has  considered,  what  evil  is  implied 
in  it,  and  the  bad  effects  which  follow  from  it.  It  is 
perhaps  true,  that  they  who  are  addicted  to  this  folly 
would  choose  to  confine  themselves  to  trifles  and  indif- 
ferent subjects,  and  so  intend  only  to  be  guilty  of  being 
impertinent:  but  as  they  cannot  go  on  for  ever  talking 
of  nothing,  as  common  matters  will  not  afford  a  sufficient 
fund  for  perpetual  continued  discourse:  when  subjects 
of  this  kind  are  exhausted,  they  will  go  on  to  defamation, 
scandal,  divulging  of  secrets,  their  own  secrets  as  well  as 
those  of  rthers,  any  thing  rather  than  be  silent.  They 
are  plainly  hurried  on  in  the  lieat^  of  their  talk  to  say 


1 


SsB.  IV.]  OF  THE  TONGUE.  55 

quite  different  things  from  what  they  first  intended,  and 
which  they  afterwards  wish  unsaid:  or  improper  things, 
which  they  had  no  end  in  saying,  but  only  to  afford  em- 
ployment to  their  tongue.  And  if  these  people  expect 
to  be  heard  and  regarded,  for  there  are  some  content 
merely  with  talking,  they  will  invent  to  engage  your  at- 
tention: and,  when  they  have  heard  the  least  imperfect 
hint  of  an  affair,  they  will  out  of  their  own  head  add  the 
circumstances  of  time  and  place,  and  other  matters  to 
make  out  their  story,  and  give  the  appearance  of  proba- 
bility to  it :  not  that  they  have  any  concern  about  being 
believed,  otherwise  than  as  a  means  of  being  heard.  The 
thing  is,  to  engage  your  attention;  to  take  you  up  wholly 
for  the  present  time:  what  reflections  will  be  made  after- 
w^ards,  is  in  truth  the  least  of  their  thoughts.  And  further, 
when  persons,  who  indulge  themselves  in  these  liberties 
of  the  tongue,  are  in  any  degree  offended  with  another, 
as  little  disgusts  and  misunderstandings  will  be,  they 
allow  themselves  to  defame  and  revile  such  a  one  with- 
out any  moderation  or  bounds  ;  though  the  offence  is  so 
very  slight,  that  they  themselves  would  not  do,  nor  per- 
haps wish  him  an  injury  in  any  other  way.  And  in  this 
case  the  scandal  and  revilings  are  chiefly  owing  to  talka- 
tiveness, and  not  bridhng  their  tongue  ;  and  so  come 
under  our  present  subject.  The  least  occasion  in  the 
world  will  make  the  humour  break  out  in  this  particular 
way,  or  in  another.  It  is  Hke  a  torrent,  which  must  and 
will  flow  ;  but  the  least  thing  imaginable  will  first  of  all 
give  it  either  this  or  another  direction,  turn  it  into  this 
or  that  channel :  or  like  a  fire ;  the  nature  of  which, 
when  in  a  heap  of  combustible  matter,  is  to  spread  and 
lay  waste  all  around  ;  but  any  one  of  a  thousand  little 
accidents  will  occasion  it  to  break  out  first  ci'iher  in  this 
or  another  particular  part. 

The  subject  then  before  us,  though  it  does  run  up  into, 
and  can  scarce  be  treated  as  entirely  distinct  from  all 
others;  yet  it  needs  not  to  be  so  much  mixed  or  blended 
with  them  as  it  often  is.  Every  faculty  and  power  may 
be  used  as  the  instrument  of  ])remeditate(l  vice  and 
wickedness,  merely  as  the  most  j)ropiM*  and  effectual 
means  of  executing  such  designs.    But  if  a  man,  from 


56  UPON  THE  GOVERNMENT  [Ser.  IT 

deep  malice  and  desire  of  revenge,  should  meditate  a 
falsehood  with  a  settled  design  to  ruin  his  neighbour's 
reputation,  and  should  with  great  coolness  and  delibera- 
tion spread  it;  nobody  would  choose  to  say  of  such  a 
one,  that  he  had  no  government  of  his  tongue.  A  man 
may  use  the  faculty  of  speech  as  an  instrument  of  false 
witness,  who  yet  has  so  entire  a  command  over  that 
faculty,  as  never  to  speak  but  from  forethought  and  cool 
design.  Here  the  crime  is  injustice  and  perjury:  and, 
strictly  speaking,  no  more  belongs  to  the  present  subject, 
than  perjury  and  injustice  in  any  other  way.  But  there 
is  such  a  thing  as  a  disposition  to  be  talking  for  its  own 
sake ;  from  which  persons  often  say  any  thing,  good  or 
bad,  of  others,  merely  as  a  subject  of  discourse,  accord- 
ing to  the  particular  temper  they  themselves  happen  to^ 
be  in,  and  to  pass  away  the  present  time.  There  is  like- 
wise to  be  observed  in  persons  such  a  strong  and  eager  • 
desire  of  engaging  attention  to  what  they  say,  that  they 
will  speak  good  or  evil,  truth  or  otherwise,  merely  as- 
one  or  the  other  seems  to  be  most  hearkened  to :  and ' 
this,  though  it  is  sometimes  joined,  is  not  the  same  with^ 
the  dt  sire  of  being  thought  important  and  men  of  conse- 
qu(  nee.  There  is  in  some  such  a  disposition  to  be  talk- 
ing, that  an  offence  of  the  slightest  kind,  and  such  as 
would  not  raise  any  other  resentment,  yet  raises,  if  I 
may  so  speak,  the  resentment  of  the  tongue,  puts  it  into  - 
a  flame,  into  the  most  ungovernable  motions.  This  out- 
rage, when  the  person  it  respects  is  present, 'we  dis- 
tinguish in  the  lower  rank  of  people  by  a  peculiar  term  : 
and  let  it  be  observed,  that  though  the  decencies  of 
behaviour  are  a  little  kept,  the  same  outrage  and  viru- 
lence, indulged  when  he  is  absent,  is  an  offence  of  the 
same  kind.  But  not  to  distinguish  any  farther  in  this 
manner:  men  run  into  faults  and  follies,  which  cannot 
so  properly  be  referred  to  any  one  general  head  as  this, 
that  they  have  not  a  due  government  over  their  tongue. 

And  this  unrestrained  volubility  and  wantonness  of 
speech  is  the  occasion  of  numberless  evils  and  vexations 
in  life.  It  begets  resentment  in  him  who  is  the  subject 
of  it;  sows  the  seed  of  strife  and  dissension  amongst 
others:  and  inflames  little  disg'usts  and  offences,  which. 


Skr.  IV.]  OF  THE  TONGUE.  57 

if  let  alone  would  wear  away  of  themselves:  it  is  often 
of  as  bad  effect  upon  the  good  name  of  others,  as  deep  envy 
or  malice :  and,  to  say  the  least  of  it  in  this  respect,  it 
destroys  and  perverts  a  certain  equity  of  the  utmost  im- 
portance to  society  to  be  observed;  namely,  that  praise 
and  dispraise,  a  good  or  bad  character,  should  always 
be  bestowed  according  to  desert.  The  tongue  used  in 
such  a  licentious  manner  is  like  a  sword  in  the  hand  of 
a  madman;  it  is  employed  at  random,  it  can  scarce  pos- 
sibly do  any  good,  and  for  the  most  part  does  a  world 
of  mischief;  and  implies  not  only  great  folly  and  a  trifling 
spirit,  but  great  viciousness  of  mind,  great  indifference 
to  truth  and  falsity,  and  to  the  reputation,  welfare,  and 
good  of  others.  So  much  reason  is  there  for  what  St 
James  says  of  the  tongue.*  It  is  a  fire,  a  world  of  ini- 
quity^ it  defileth  the  whole  body,  setteth  on  fire  the  course  of 
nature,  and  is  itself  set  on  fire  of  hell.  This  is  the  faculty 
or  disposition  which  we  are  required  to  keep  a  guard 
upon :  these  are  the  vices  and  follies  it  runs  into,  when 
not  kept  under  due  restraint. 

II.  Wherein  the  due  government  of  the  tongue  con- 
sists, or  when  it  may  be  said  of  any  one  in  a  moral  and 
religious  sense  that  he  hridleth  his  tongue,  I  come  now  to 
consider. 

The  due  and  proper  use  of  any  natural  faculty  or 
power,  is  to  be  judged  of  by  the  end  and  design  for  which 
it  was  given  us.  The  chief  purpose,  for  which  the  liiculty 
of  speech  was  given  to  man,  is  plainly  that  we  might 
communicate  our  thoughts  to  each  other,  in  order  to 
carry  on  the  affairs  of  the  world;  for  business,  and  for 
our  improvement  in  knowledge  and  learning.  But  the 
good  Author  of  our  nature  designed  us  not  only  neces- 
saries, but  likewise  enjoyment  and  satisfaction,  in  that 
being  he  hath  graciously  given,  and  in  that  condition  ot 
life  he  hath  placed  us  in.  There  are  secondary  uses  ot 
our  faculties:  they  administer  to  delight,  as  well  as  to 
necessity:  and  as  they  are  equally  adapted  to  both,  there 
is  no  doubt  but  he  intended  them  for  our  gratification, 
as  well  as  for  the  support  and  continuance  of  our  beings 
The  secondary  use  of  speech  is  to  please  and  be  enter- 

•  Clinp.  iii.  vrr.  G. 


58  UPON  THE  GOVERNMENT  lSer.  IV. 

taining  to  each  other  in  conversation.  This  is  in  every 
respect  allowable  and  right:  it  unites  men  closer  in 
alliances  and  friendships ;  gives  us  a  fellow  feeling  of  the 
prosperity  and  unhappiness  of  each  other;  and  is  in  seve- 
ral respects  serviceable  to  virtue,  and  to  promote  good 
behaviour  in  the  world.  And  provided  there  be  not  too 
much  time  spent  in  it,  if  it  were  considered  only  in  the 
way  of  gratification  and  delight,  men  must  have  strange 
notions  of  God  and  of  religion,  to  think  that  he  can  be 
offended  with  it,  or  that  it  is  any  way  inconsistent  with 
the  strictest  virtue.  But  the  truth  is,  such  sort  of  con- 
versation, though  it  ^as  no  particular  good  tendency,  yet 
it  has  a  general  good  one:  it  is  social  and  friendly,  and 
tends  to  promote  humanity,  good-nature,  and  civility. 

As  the  end  and  use,  so  likewise  the  abuse  of  speech, 
relates  to  the  one  or  other  of  these;  either  to  business, 
or  to  conversation.  As  to  the  former;  deceit  in  the 
management  of  bu.-iness  and  affairs  does  not  properly 
belong  to  the  subject  now  before  us:  though  one  may 
Just  mention  that  multitude,  that  endless  number  of 
words,  with  which  business  is  perplexed;  when  a  much 
fewer  would,  as  it  should  seem,  better  serve  the  purpose: 
but  this  must  be  left  to  those  who  understand  the  matter. 
The  government  of  the  tongue,  considered  as  a  subject 
of  itself,  relates  chiefly  to  conversation ;  to  that  kind  of 
discourse  which  usually  fills  up  the  time  spent  in  friendly 
meetings,  and  visits  of  civility.  And  the  danger  is,  lest 
persons  entertain  themselves  and  others  at  the  expense 
of  their  wisdom  and  their  virtue,  and  to  the  injury  or 
off  nee  of  their  neighbour.  If  they  will  observe  and  keep 
clear  of  these,  they  may  be  as  free,  and  easy,  and  unre- 
served, as  they  can  desire. 

The  cautions  to  be  given  for  avoiding  these  dangers, 
and  to  render  conversation  innocent  and  agreeable,  fall 
under  the  following  particulars:  silence;  talking  of  in- 
different things;  and  which  makes  up  too  great  a  part 
of  conversation,  giving  of  characters,  speaking  well  or 
evil  of  others. 

The  Wise  Man  observes,  that  there  is  a  time  to  speak, 
■{fiid  a  time  to  keep  silence.  One  meets  with  people  in 
llie  world,  who  seem  never  to  have  made  the  last  of  these 


5Ea.  IV.]  OF  THE  TONGUE.  59 

observations.  And  yet  these  great  talkers  do  not  at  all 
speak  from  their  having  any  thing  to  say,  as  every  sen- 
tence shows,  but  only  from  their  inclination  to  be  talking. 
Their  conversation  is  merelv  an  exercise  of  the  tongue: 
no  other  human  faculty  has  any  share  in  it.  It  is  strange 
these  persons  can  help  reflecting,  lhat  unless  they  have 
in  truth  a  superior  capacity,  and  are  in  an  extraordinary 
manner  furnished  for  conversation ;  if  they  are  enter- 
taining, it  is  at  their  own  expense.  Is  it  possible,  that 
it  should  never  come  into  people's  thoughts  to  suspect, 
whether  or  no  it  be  to  their  advantage  to  show  so  very 
much  of  themselves  ?  Oh  that  you  would  altogether  hold 
your  peace,  and  it  should  be  your  wisdom*  Remember 
likewise  there  are  persons  who  love  fewer  words,  an 
inoffensive  sort  of  people,  and  who  deserve  some  regard, 
though  of  too  still  and  composed  tempers  for  you.  Of 
this  number  was  the  son  of  Sirach:  for  he  plainly  speaks 
from  experience,  when  he  says;  As  hills  of  sands  are  to 
•the  steps  of  the  ^ged,  so  is  one  of  many  words  to  a  quiet 
man.  But  one  would  think  it  should  be  obvious  to  every 
one,  that  when  they  are  in  company  with  their  superiors 
of  any  kind,  in  years,  knowledge,  and  experience:  when 
proper  and  useful  subjects  are  discoursed  of,  which  they 
cannot  bear  a  part  in ;  that  these  are  times  for  silence : 
when  they  should  learn  to  hear,  and  be  attentive;  at  least 
in  their  turn.  It  is  indeed  a  very  unhappy  way  these 
people  are  in  :  they  in  a  manner  cut  themselves  out  from 
all  advantage  of  conversation,  except  that  of  being  enter- 
tained with  their  own  talk:  tlieir  business  in  coming  into 
company  not  being  at  all  to  be  informed,  to  hear,  to 
learn;  but  to  display  themselves;  or  rather  to  exert  their 
faculty,  and  talk  without  any  design  at  all.  And  if  we 
consider  conversation  as  an  entertainment,  as  somewhat 
to  unbend  the  mind ;  as  a  diversion  from  the  cares,  the 
business,  and  the  sorrows  of  life ;  it  is  of  the  very  nature 
of  it,  that  the  discourse  be  mutual.  This,  I  say  is  .im- 
plied in  the  very  notion  of  what  we  distinguish  jy  con- 
versation, or  being  in  company.  Attention  to  the  con- 
tinued discourse  of  one  alone  grows  more  painful  often, 
than  the  cares  and  business  we  come  to  be  diverted  from. 


*  Job  xiil. 


60  UPON  THE  GOVERNMENT  [Ser,  IV. 

He  therefore  who  imposes  this  upon  us  is  guilty  of  a 
double  offence ;  arbitrarily  enjoining  silence  upon  all  the 
rest,  and  likewise  obliging  them  to  this  painful  attention. 

I  am  sensible  these  things  are  apt  to  be  passed  over, 
as  too  little  to  come  into  a  serious  discourse :  but  in  real- 
ity men  are  obliged,  Sven  in  point  of  morality  and  virtue^ 
to  observe  all  the  decencies  of  behaviour.  The  greatest 
evils  in  life  have  had  their  rise  from  somewhat,  which 
was  thought  of  too  little  importance  to  be  attended  to. 
And  as  to  the  matter  we  are  now  upon,  it  is  absolutely 
necessary  to  be  considered.  For  if  people  will  not 
maintain  a  due  government  over  themselves,  in  regard- 
ing proper  times  and  seasons  for  silence,  but  will  be 
talking;  they  certainly,  whether  they  design  it  or  not  at 
first,  will  go  on  to  scandal  and  evil-speaking,  and  divulg- 
ing secrets. 

If  it  were  needful  to  say  any  thing  further,  to  persuade 
men  to  learn  this  lesson  of  silence;  one  might  put  them 
in  mind,  how  insignificant  they  render  themselves  by 
this  excessive  talkativeness:  insomuch  that,  if  they  da 
chance  to  say  any  thing  which  deserves  to  be  attended 
to  and  regarded,  it  is  lost  in  the  variety  and  abundance 
which  they  utter  of  another  sort 

The  occasions  of  silence  then  are  obvious,  and  one 
would  think  should  be  easily  distinguished  by  every 
body:  namely,  when  a  man  has  nothing  to  say;  or  no- 
thing, but  what  is  better  unsaid :  better,  either  in  regard  to 
particular  persons  he  is  present  with ;  or  from  its  being 
an  interruption  to  conversation  itself;  or  to  conversation 
of  a  more  agreeable  kind;  or  better,  lastly,  with  regard 
to  himself.  I  will  end  this  particular  with  two  reflec- 
tions of  the  Wise  Man:  one  of  which,  in  the  strongest 
manner,  exposes  the  ridiculous  part  of  this  licentiousness 
of  the  tongue ;  and  the  other,  the  great  danger  and  vi- 
ciousness  of  it.  When  he  that  is  a  fool  walketh  by  the 
way  side,  his  wisdom  faileth  him,  and  he  saith  to  every 
one  that  he  is  a  fool.*  The  other  is,  In  the  multitude  of 
words  there  wanteth  not  6'm.t 

As  to  the  government  of  the  tongue  in  respect  to  talk- 
ing upon  indifferent  subjects :  after  what  has  been  said 

*  Eccics.  X.  3.  +  Prov.  x.  19. 


Ser.  IV.]  OF  THE  TONGUE.  61 

concerning  the  due  government  of  it  in  respect  to  the 
occasions  and  times  for  silence,  there  is  Httle  more  ne- 
cessary, than  only  to  caution  men  to  be  fully  satisfied, 
that  the  subjects  are  indeed  of  an  indifferent  natur&;  and 
not  to  spend  too  much  time  in  conversation  of  this  kind. 
But  persons  must  be  sure  to  take  heed,  that  the  subject 
of  their  discourse  be  at  least  of  an  indifferent  nature : 
that  it  be  no  way  offensive  to  virtue,  religion,  or  good 
manners ;  that  it  be  not  of  a  licentious  dissolute  sort, 
this  leaving  always  ill  impressions  upon  the  mind;  that 
it  be  no  way  injurious  or  vexatious  to  others;  and  that 
too  much  time  be  not  spent  this  way,  to  the  neglect  of 
those  duties  and  offices  of  life  which  belong  to  their  sta- 
tion and  condition  in  the  world.  However,  though  there 
is  not  any  necessity  that  men  should  aim  at  being  im- 
portant and  weighty  in  every  sentence  they  speak:  yet 
since  useful  subjects,  at  least  of  some  kinds,  are  as  en- 
tertaining as  others;  a  wise  man,  even  when  he  desires 
to  unbend  his  mind  from  business,  would  choose  that 
the  conversation  might  turn  upon  somewhat  instructive. 

The  last  thing  is,  the  government  of  the  tongue  as  re- 
lating to  discourse  of  the  affairs  of  others,  and  giving  of 
characters.  These  are  in  a  manner  the  same:  and  one 
can  scarce  call  it  an  indifierent  subject,  because  discourse 
upon  it  almost  perpetually  runs  into  somewhat  criminal. 

And  first  of  all,  it  were  very  much  to  be  wished  that 
this  did  not  take  up  so  great  a  part  of  conversation;  be- 
cause it  is  indeed  a  subject  of  a  dangerous  nature.  Let 
any  one  consider  the  various  interests,  competitions,  and 
little  misunderstandings  which  arise  amongst  men;  and 
he  will  soon  see,  that  he  is  not  unprejudiced  and  impar- 
tial; that  he  is  not,  as  I  may  speak,  neutral  enough,  to 
trust  himself  with  talking  of  the  character  and  concerns 
of  his  neighbour,  in  a  free,  careless,  and  unreserved 
manner.  There  is  perp(>tual!y,  and  often  it  is  not  at- 
tended to,  a  rivalship  amongst  peoj^le  of  one  kind  or  an- 
other, in  respect  to  wit,  beauty,  learning,  fortune,  and 
that  one  thing  will  insensibly  influence  them  to  speak  to 
the  disadvantai2;e  of  others,  even  where  there  is  no  form- 
ed malice  or  ill  design.  Since  therefore  it  is  so  hard  to 
enter  into  this  subject  without  offending,  the  first  thing 


62  UPON  THE  GOVERNMENT  [SER.iy. 

to  be  observed  is,  that  people  should  learn  to  decline  it; 
to  get  over  that  strong  inclination  most  have  to  be  talk- 
ing of  the  concerns  and  behaviour  of  their  neighbour. 

But  since  it  is  impossible  that  this  subject  should  be 
wholly  excluded  conversation;  and  since  it  is  necessary 
that  the  characters  of  men  should  be  known:  the  next 
thing  is,  that  it  is  a  matter  of  importance  what  is  said; 
and  therefore,  that  we  should  be  religiously  scrupulous 
and  exact  to  say  nothing,  either  good  or  bad,  but  what 
is  true.  I  put  it  thus,  because  it  is  in  reality  of  a& 
great  importance  to  the  good  of  society,  that  the  char« 
acters  of  bad  men  should  be  known,  as  that  the  charac- 
ters of  good  men  should.  People,  who  are  given  to 
scandal  and  detraction,  may  indeed  make  an  ill  use  of 
this  observation ;  but  truths  which  are  of  service  towards 
regulating  our  conduct,  are  not  to  be  disowned,  or  even 
concealed  because  a  bad  use  may  be  made  of  them. 
This  however  would  be  effectually  prevented,  if  these 
two  things  were  attended  to.  First,  That,  though  it  is 
equally  of  bad  consequence  to  society,  that  men  should 
have  either  good  or  ill  characters  which  they  do  not 
deserve;  yet,  when  you  say  somewhat  good  of  a  man 
which  he  does  not  deserve,  there  is  no  wrong  done  him 
in  particular;  whereas,  when  you  say  evil  of  a  man 
which  he  does  not  deserve,  here  is  a  direct  forma!  injury, 
a  real  piece  of  injustice  done  him.  This  therefore  makes 
a  wide  difference;  and  gives  us,  in  point  of  virtue,  much 
greater  latitude  in  speaking  well  than  ill  of  others. 
Secondly,  A  good  man  is  friendly  to  his  fellow  creatures, 
and  a  lover  of  mankind;  and  so  will,  upon  every  occa- 
sion, and  often  without  any,  say  all  the  good  he  can  of 
every  body:  but  so  far  as  he  is  a  good  man,  will  never 
be  disposed  to  speak  evil  of  any,  unless  there  be  some 
other  reason  for  it,  besides  barely  that  it  is  true.  If  he 
be  charged  with  having  given  an  ill  chara-cter,  he  will 
scarce  think  it  a  sufficient  justification  of  himself  to  say 
it  was  a  true  one,  unless  he  can  also  give  some  further 
account  how  he  came  to  do  so:  a  just  indignation  against 
particular  instances  of  villany,  where  they  are  great  and 
scandalous;  or  to  prevent  an  innocent  man  from  being 
deceived  and  betraved,  when  he  has  great  trust  and 


Skr,  IV. 


OF  THE  TOlsGUE. 


63 


confidence  in  one  who  does  not  deserve  it.  Justice  must 
be  done  to  every  part  of  a  subject  when  we  are  consider- 
ing it.  If  there  be  a  man,  who  bears  a  fair  character  in  the 
world,  whom  yet  we  know  to  be  without  faith  or  honesty, 
to  be  really  an  ill  man ;  it  must  be  allowed  in  general,  that 
we  shall  do  a  piece  of  service  to  society,  by  letting  such 
a  one's  true  character  be  known.  This  is  no  more  than 
what  we  have  an  instance  of  in  our  Saviour  himself ; 
though  he  was  mild  and  gentle  beyond  example.*  How- 
ever, no  words  can  express  too  strongly  the  caution 
which  should  be  used  in  such  a  case  as  this. 

Upon  the  whole  matter:  If  people  would  observe  the 
obvious  occasions  of  silence,  if  they  would  subdue  the  in- 
clinations to  tale-bearing,  and  that  eager  desire  fo  engage 
attention,  which  is  an  original  disease  in  some  minds; 
they  would  be  in  little  danger  of  offending  with  their 
tongue;  and  would,  in  a  moral  and  religious  sense,  have 
due  government  over  it. 

I  will  conclude  with  some  precepts  and  reflections  of 
the  Son  of  Sirach  upon  this  subject.  Be  swift  to  hear ; 
and,  if  thou  hast  understanding,  ansv^er  thy  neighbour;  if 
not,  lay  thy  hand  upon  thy  mouth.  Honour  and  shame  is 
in  talk,  A  man  of  an  ill  tongue  is  dangerous  in  his  city, 
and  he  that  is  rash  in  his  talk  shall  be  hated.  A  loise  man 
will  hold  his  tongue  till  he  see  opportunity;  but  a  babbler 
and  a  fool  will  regard  no  time.  He  that  useth  many  words 
shall  be  abhorred;  and  he  that  takcth  to  himself  authority 
therein,  shall  be  hated,  A  backbiting  tongue  hath  di^iquieted 
many ;  strong  cities  hath  it  pulled  down,  and  overthrown 
the  houses  of  great  men.  The  tongue  of  a  man  is  his  Jail; 
but  if  thoic  lace  to  hear,  thou  shall  receive  understanding. 

*  Mark  xii.  38,  40. 


64 


UPON  COMPASSION.  '  [Skr.V. 


SERMON  V. 

UPON  COMPASSION. 

Rejoice  with  them  that  do  rejoice^  aiid  weep  with  them  that  weep, 
Rom.  xii.  15. 

Every  man  is  to  be  considered  in  two  capacities,  the  pri- 
vate and  public;  as  designed  to  pursue  his  own  interest, 
Etnd  hkewise  to  contribute  to  the  good  of  others.  Who- 
ever will  consider,  may  see,  that  in  general  there  is  no 
contrariety  between  these;  but  that  from  the  original 
constitution  of  man,  and  the  circumstances  he  is  placed 
in,  they  perfectly  coincide,  and  mutually  carry  on  each 
other.  But,  amongst  the  great  variety  of  affections  or 
principles  of  action  in  our  nature,  some  in  their  primary 
intention  and  design  seem  to  belong  to  the  single  or 
private,  others  to  the  public  or  social  capacity.  The 
affections  required  in  the  text  are  of  the  latter  sort. 
When  we  rejoice  in  the  prosperity  of  others,  and  com- 
passionate their  distresses,  we,  as  it  were,  substitute  them 
for  ourselves,  their  interest  for  our  own;  and  have  the 
same  kind  of  pleasure  in  their  prosperity,  and  sorrow  in 
their  distress,  as  we  have  from  reflection  upon  our  own. 
Now  there  is  nothing  strange  or  unaccountable  in  our 
being  thus  carried  out,  and  affected  towards  the  intere:5ts 
of  others.  For,  if  there  be  any  appetite,  or  any  inward 
principle  besides  self-love;  why  may  there  not  be  an 
affection  to  the  good  of  our  fellow  creatures,  and  delight 
from  that  affection's  being  gratified,  and  uneasiness  from 
things  going  contrary  to  it.^^* 

*  There  being  manifcsUy  tl  is  appearance  of  men's  substitnting  others  for  lli«  ni- 
selves,  and  being  CJirrinJ  out  and  ath  cu  d  towards  Liieni  as  towards  themselves  ;  some 
persons,  who  have  a  system  whicli  excludes  every  affection  of  tfiis  sort,  have  laken  a 
pleasant  nietho<l  to  solve  it;  and  tell  you  it  is  not  another  you  are  at  all  concen.ed 
about,  but  your  seif  only,  when  you  feel  the  afft  ction  called  i'nnipassion,  i.  e.  !(<  re  is 
a  plain  matter  of  fact,  which  men  cannot  reconcile  >vini  tne  f^riierai  account  they 
think  fit  to  give  of  tliinos  :  they  then-lore,  inst^-ad  of  that  manifc.Nt  hnu,  substitute 
another^  whicti  is  reconcileable  to  their  own  scheme.  For  do.  s  not  every  hoiiy  by 
compassion  nx-an  an  affection,  the  ohj<  ct  of  wiiich  is  another  in  distress?  Instead  of 
this,  but  designing  to  have  it  niislak«  n  for  this,  they  speak  <*f  an  affection  or  passion, 
the  object  of  which  is  ourselves,  or  djniger  to  our>elves.  I  h)l)l)es  defines  pill/ .  imagi- 
natian,  or  Jictiok  of  future  caU'-»tdy  to  ourselves,  procctding  jrom  the  sense  (lie  means 


SxR.  v.] 


UPON  COMPASSION. 


65 


Of  these  two,  dehght  in  the  prosperity  of  others,  and 
compassion  for  their  distresses,  the  last  is  felt  much  more 
generally  than  the  former.  Though  men  do  not  univer- 
sally rejoice  with  all  whom  they  see  rejoice,  yet,  acci- 

s]<rht  or  knowledge)  of  another  majis  calaynity.  Thus  fear  and  compassion  would  be 
the  same  idea,  and  a  fearful  ;ind  a  compassionate  man  the  same  character,  which 
every  man  immediately  sees  are  totally  different.  Further,  to  those  who  give  any 
scope  to  their  atfeciioiis,  tliere  is  no  perception  or  inward  feeling  more  universal  than 
this:  that  one  who  has  been  nu  rciliil  and  compassionate  throughout  the  course  of  his 
behaviour,  siiould  himself  be  treated  with  kindness,  it' he  happens  to  fall  into  circum- 
stances of  distress.  Is  fear,  then,  or  cowardice,  so  great  a  recommendation  to  the 
favour  of  the  bulk  of  mankind  ?  Or  is  it  not  plain,  (hat  mere  fearlessness  (and  there- 
fore not  the  couLrary)  is  one  of  the  most  popular  qualifications?  This  shows  that 
mankind  are  not,  aliected  towards  compassion  as  fear,  but  as  somewhat  totally 
different. 

Nothing  would  more  expose  such  accounts  as  these  of  the  affections  which  are 
favourable  and  friendly  to  our  tVllow  en  atures,  than  to  substitute  the  dcliiiitions, 
wJiich  this  author,  and  others  who  follow  his  steps,  give  of  such  aifections,  instead  of 
tlie  words  by  which  they  are  commoidy  expressed.  Hobbes,  after  having  laid  down, 
that  pity  or  compasj.ion  is  only  fear  for  ourselves,  goes  on  to  explain  the'n  asnn  why 
we  pity  our  friends  in  distress  more  than  others.  Now  substitute  the  dejinit'ton  in•^teaci 
of  the  word  pity  in  this  place,  and  tlie  inrpiiry  will  be,  why  wc  fear  our  friends,  &c., 
which  words  (since  he  really  does  not  mean  why  we  are  afraid  of  them)  make  no 
question  or  sentence  at  all.  So  that  a)mmou  language,  the  words  to  compassionate^ 
to  pity,  ciinnot  be  accommodated  to  his  account  of  compassion.  The  very  joining  of 
the  words  to  pity  our  friends,  is  a  direct  contradicliou  to  his  definition  of  pity  :  because 
ihose  words,  so  joined,  necessarily  exj>a'ss  that  our  friends  are  the  ohjt  cts  of  the 
passion:  whereas  his  definition  of  it  asserts,  (hat  ourselves  (or  danger  to  ours<'lves) 
are  the  only  ol)jects  of  it.  He  migiit  iiideed  have  avoideil  tliis  absnrdity,  by  plainly 
saying  what  he  is  going  to  account  ior  ;  namely,  why  tiie  sight  of  the  innocent,  or  of 
our  friends  in  distress,  raises  greater  fear  for  ourseh cs  than  the  sight  of  otluT  persons 
in  d. stress.  But  had  he  put  the  tiling  thus  plainly,  the  tact  itself  would  have  been 
doubted  ;  that  tht  sight  of  our  friends  in  distress  raises  in  its  greater  fear  for  our- 
selves, than  the  sight  of  others  in  distress.  And  in  the  next  pl;;ce  it  wouhl  imme- 
diately Ji;;ve  ()C(Mirred  to  every  one,  that  tiie  fact  now  mentioned,  wliich  at  h  ast  is 
doubtful,  whether  true  or  lalse,  was  not  the  same  with  this  fact,  which  nobody  ever 
doubted,  that  the  sight  of  our  friends  in  distress  7-aises  in  us  greater  compassion  than 
Vu  sight  of  others  in  distress:  every  one,  1  say,  wouhl  have  seen  that  these  are  not 
the  same,  but  two  different  inquiries;  nnil  consequently,  that  fi'ar  and  con^tassion  are 
iiol  tiie  same.  Suppose  a  j>er>on  to  be  in  real  ilanger,  and  by  some  means  or  other 
to  luive  forgot  it;  any  trilling  a<'cident,  any  soumi  might  alarm  him,  recall  the 
daifger  to  hi.s  r«  inembrance,  anil  renew  his  fear:  but  it  is  almost  too  grossly  ridicji- 
lou>>  (ihoiigh  it  is  to  show  an  absurdity)  to  speak  of  that  sound  or  acciilent  as  an  object 
of  compassion  ;  and  yet,  according  to  Mr  1  loblx  s,  our  gn  atest  friend  in  distress  is 
no  more  to  us,  no  more  the  object  of  compassion,  or  of  any  alVection  in  our  lienrt : 
neither  tlie  one  nor  the  other  raises  any  (motion  in  our  mind,  but  only  the  thoughts 
of  our  liublenj'ss  to  calamity,  and  the  fear  of  it;  and  both  eipially  ilo  this.  It  is  fit 
such  sort  of  accounts  of  human  nature  should  be  shown  to  be  what  they  really  are, 
because  there  is  raised  upon  llu-ni  a  geiu-ral  sc-heme  which  \indermines  the  whole 
fouiKiation  of  couimon  justice  and  hoiu  sty.    See  HiMes  if  lluvnin  Nature,  c.  0.  ^  10. 

riiere  are  often  three  distinct  perceptions  or  inward  feelings  upon  siplit  of  jiersons 
in  distress:  real  sorrow  ami  <;oncern  h»r  the  misery  of  our  lellow creaiiires  ;  some 
dei^ree  of  satishiction  from  a  consciousness  of  our  freedom  from  that  misery  ;  and  as 
the  mind  p:L>.ses  on  from  one  tiling  to  another,  it  is  not  unnatural  from  s\\c\\  an  orc4W 
sion  to  reflect  upon  our  liableness  to  tlie  siinie  or  other  calamities.  The  two  last 
frequently  aceoinpaiiy  the  first,  but  it  is  the  first  only  which  is  pn)per  compassion,  of 
which  the  distress«(i  are  objects,  and  which  dirtciiy  (iirries  us  with  ralmiu-«is  and 
tln)uglit  to  their  assistance.  Any  one  of  lhes»',  from  various  juid  complicated  reasoni 
way  in  particular  rases  pn-vail  over  the  other  two;  and  tin  re  are.  I  suppo!«.r,  in* 
Stances,  where  the  bare  sight  of  distress,  witliout  our  lecHng  any  compassiou  for 

E 


66  UPON  COMPASSION.  [Skb.  V- 

dental  obstacles  removed,  they  naturally  compassionate 
all,  in  some  degree,  whom  they  see  in  distress;  so  far  as, 
they  have  any  real  perception  or  sense  of  that  distress 
insomuch  that  words  expressing  this  latter,  pity,  com- 
passion, frequently  occur;  whereas  we  have  scarce  any 
single  one,  by  which  the  former  is  distinctly  expressed* 
Congratulation  indeed  answers  condolence:  but  both 
these  words  are  intended  to  signify  certain  forms  of 
civility,  rather  than  any  inward  sensation  or  feeling. 
This  difference  or  inequality  is  so  remarkable,  that  we 
plainly  consider  compassion  as  itself  an  original,  distinct,, 
particular  affection  in  human  nature;  whereas  to  rejoice^ 
in  the  good  of  others,  is  only  a  consequence  of  the 
general  affection  of  love  and  good-will  to  them.  The 
reason  and  account  of  which  matter  is  this:  when  a 
man  has  obtained  any  particular  advantage  or  fehcity,. 
his  end  is  gained;  and  he  does  not  in  that  particular 
want  the  assistance  of  another:  there  was  therefore  no 
need  of  a  distinct  affection  towards  that  felicity  of  another 
already  obtained:  neither  would  such  affection  directly 
carry  him  on  to  do  good  to  that  person:  whereas  men 
in  distress  want  assistance;  and  compassion  leads  us 
directly  to  assist  them.  The  object  of  the  former  is  the 
present  felicity  of  another;  the  object  of  the  latter  is  the 
present  misery  of  another.  It  is  easy  to  see  that  the 
latter  wants  a  particular  affection  for  its  rehef,  and  that 
the  former  does  not  want  one,  because  it  does  not  want 
assistance.  And  upon  supposition  of  a  distinct  affection 
in  both  cases,  the  one  must  rest  in  the  exercise  of  itself, 
having  nothing  further  to  gain;  the  other  does  not  rest 
in  itself,  but  carries  us  on  to  assist  the  distressed. 

But,  supposing  these  affections  natural  to  the  mind, 

may  bp  the  occasion  of  t'iLhcr  or  lK)th  of  the  two  latter  perceptions.  One  mig^ht  atld 
that  it  there  be  really  any  such  thin^  as  the  fiction  or  iniap^inaiion  of  danger  to  our 
selves  f  rom  I  he  sight  ot  the  misery  of  others,  whicii  HoI)l)es  speaks  of,  and  wliicii  he 
has  absm-illy  mistaken  for  the  wliole  of  compassion  ;  if  there  be  any  thing  of  this  sort 
common  to  mankind,  distinct  from  the  reflection  of  reason,  it  wouUl  be  a  most 
remarkable  instiuice  of  what  was  furtiiest  from  the  tiioiiglits,  namely,  of  a  mutual 
sympalliy  between  each  jtarticular  of  the  species,  a  fellow  feeling  common  to  man- 
kind. U  would  not  indeed  be  an  example  of  our  substituting  others  for  ourselves, 
but  it  would  be  an  example  of  substituting  ourselves  for  others.  And  as  it  would 
not  be  an  instance  of  benevolence,  so  neither  would  it  be  an  instance  of  self  love  : 
for  this  phantom  of  danger  to  ourselves,  naturally  rising  to  view  upon  sight  of  the 
distress'  s  of  others  would  be  no  more  an  instance  of  love  to  ourselves,  than  the  paia 
of  hunger  is. 


v.]  UPON  COMPASSION.  67 

particularly  the  last;  ^^Has  not  each  man  troubles  enough 
of  his  own?  must  he  indulge  an  affection  which  appro- 
priates to  him.self  those  of  others?  w^hich  leads  him  to 
contract  the  least  desirable  of  all  friendships,  friendships 
with  the  unfortunate ?  Must  we  invert  the  known  rule  of 
prudence,  and  choose  to  associate  ourselves  with  the  dis- 
tressed? or,  allowing  that  we  ought,  so  far  as  it  is  in  our 
power  to  relieve  them,  yet  is  it  not  better  to  do  this  from 
reason  and  duty?  Does  not  passion  and  affection  of 
every  kind  perpetually  mislead  us?  Nay,  is  not  passion 
and  affection  itself  a  weakness,  and  what  a  perfect  being 
must  be  entirely  free  from?"  Perhaps  so:  but  it  is 
mankind  I  am  speaking  of;  imperfect  creatures,  and 
who  naturally,  and,  from  the  condition  we  are  placed  in, 
necessarily  depend  upon  each  other.  With  respect  to 
such  creatures,  it  would  be  found  of  as  bad  consequence 
to  eradicate  all  natural  affections,  as  to  be  entirely  go- 
verned by  them.  This  would  almost  sink  us  to  the 
condition  of  brutes;  and  that  would  leave  us  without  a 
sufficient  principle  of  action.  Reason  alone,  w^hatever 
any  one  may  wish,  is  not  in  reality  a  sufficient  motive 
of  virtue  in  such  a  creature  as  man ;  but  this  reason  joined 
with  those  affections  which  God  has  impressed  upon  his 
heart :  and  when  these  are  allowed  scope  to  exercise 
themselves,  but  under  strict  government  and  direction  of 
reason  ;  then  it  is  we  act  suitably  to  our  nature,  and  to 
the  circumstances  God  has  placed  us  in.  Neither  is 
affection  itself  at  all  a  weakness ;  nor  does  it  argue  defect, 
any  otherwise  than  as  our  senses  and  appetites  do;  they 
belong  to  our  condition  of  nature,  and  are  what  we  can- 
not do  without.  God  Almighty  is,  to  be  sure,  unmoved 
by  passion  or  appetite,  unchanged  by  affection:  but  then 
it  is  to  be  added,  that  he  neither  sees,  nor  hears,  nor 
perceives  things  by  any  senses  like  ours;  but  in  a  man- 
ner infinitely  more  perfect.  Now,  as  it  is  an  absurdity 
almost  too  gross  to  be  mentioned,  for  a  man  to  endea- 
vour to  get  rid  of  his  senses,  because  the  Supreme  Being 
discerns  things  more  perfectly  without  them;  it  is  a  real, 
though  not  so  obvious  an  absurdity,  to  endeavour  to 
eradicate  the  passions  he  has  given  us,  because  he  is 
without  them.    For,  since  our  passions  are  as  really 

£  t 


68  UPON  COMPASSION.  [Ser.  V. 

a  part  of  our  constitution  as  our  senses;  since  the  former 
as  really  belong  to  our  condition  of  nature  as  the 
latter  to  get  rid  of  either  is  equally  a  violation  of,  and 
breaking  in  upon,  that  nature  and  constitution  he  has 
given  us.  Both  our  senses  and  our  passions  are  a  sup- 
ply to  the  imperfection  of  our  nature:  thus  they  show 
that  we  are  such  sort  of  creatures,  as  to  stand  in  need 
of  those  helps  which  higher  orders  of  creatures  do  not. 
But  it  is  not  the  supply,  but  the  deficiency;  as  it  is  not  a 
remedy,  but  a  disease,  which  is  the  imperfection.  How- 
ever, our  appetites,  passions,  senses,  no  way  imply 
disease:  nor  indeed  do  they  imply  deficiency  or  imperfec- 
tion of  any  sort;  but  only  this,  that  the  constitution  of 
nature,  according  to  which  God  has  made  us,  is  such  as 
to  require  them.  And  it  is  far  from  being  true,  that  a 
wise  man  must  entirely  suppress  compassion,  and  all 
fellow  feeling  for  others,  as  a  weakness;  and  trust  to 
reason  alone  to  teach  and  enforce  upon  him  the  practice 
of  the  several  charities  we  owe  to  our  kind;  that,  on  the 
contrary,  even  the  bare  exercise  of  such  affections  would 
itself  be  for  the  good  and  happiness  of  the  world ;  and 
the  imperfection  of  the  higher  principles  of  reason  and 
religion  in  man,  the  little  influence  they  have  upon  our 
practice,  and  the  strength  and  prevalency  of  contrary 
ones,  plainly  require  these  affections  to  be  a  restraint 
upon  these  latter,  and  a  supply  to  the  deficiencies  of  the 
former. 

First,  The  very  exercise  itself  of  these  affections  in  a 
just  and  reasonable  manner  and  degree,  would  upon  the 
whole  increase  the  satisfactions,  and  lessen  the  miseries 
of  hfe. 

It  is  the  tendency  and  business  of  virtue  and  religion 
to  procure,  as  much  as  may  be,  universal  good-will,  trust, 
and  friendship  amongst  mankind.  If  this  could  be 
brought  to  obtain;  and  each  man  enjoyed  the  happiness 
of  others,  as  every  one  does  that  of  a  friend;  and  looked 
upon  the  success  and  prosperity  of  his  neighbour,  as 
every  one  does  upon  that  of  his  children  and  family ;  it 
is  too  manifest  to  l)c  insisted  upon,  how  much  the  enjoy- 
ments of  life  would  be  increased.  There  would  be  so 
much  happiness  introduced  into  the  world,  without  auv 


S«.  v.]  UPON  COMPASSION.  69 

deduction  or  inconvenience  from  it,  in  proportion  as  the 
precept  of  rejoicing  loith  those  who  rejoice  was  universally 
obeyed.  Our  Saviour  has  owned  this  good  affection  as 
belonging  to  our  nature,  in  the  parable  of  the  lost  sheep; 
and  does  not  think  it  to  the  disadvantage  of  a  perfect 
state,  to  represent  its  happiness  as  capable  of  increase, 
from  reflection  upon  that  of  others. 

But  since  in  such  a  creature  as  man,  compassion  or 
sorrow  for  the  distress  of  others  seems  so  far  necessarily 
connected  with  joy  in  their  prosperity,  as  that  whoever 
rejoices  in  one  must  unavoidably  compassionate  the 
other;  there  cannot  be  that  delight  or  satisfaction,  which 
appears  to  be  so  considerable,  without  the  inconven- 
iences, whatever  they  are,  of  compassion. 

However,  without  considering  this  connexion,  there 
is  no  doubt  but  that  more  good  than  evil,  more  dehght 
than  sorrow,  arises  from  compassion  itself;  there  being 
so  many  things  which  balance  the  sorrow  of  it.  There 
is  first  the  relief  which  the  distressed  feel  from  this  affec- 
tion in  others  towards  them.  There  is  likewise  the  ad- 
ditional misery  which  they  would  feel  from  the  reflec- 
tion, that  no  one  commiserated  their  case.  It  is  indeed 
true,^that  any  disposition,  prevailing  beyond  a  certain 
degree,  becomes  somewhat  wTong ;  and  we  have  ways 
of  speaking,  which,  though  they  do  not  directly  express 
that  excess,  yet,  always  lead  our  thoughts  to  it,  and  give 
us  the  notion  of  it.  Thus,  when  mention  is  made  of  de- 
light in  being  pitied,  this  always  conveys  to  our  mind 
the  notion  of  somewhat  which  is  really  a  weakness:  the 
manner  of  speaking,  I  say,  implies  a  certain  weakness 
and  feebleness  of  mind,  which  is  and  ought  to  be  disap- 
proved. But  men  of  the  greatest  fortitude  would  in 
distress  feel  uneasiness,  from  knowing  that  no  person 
in  the  world  had  any  sort  of  compassion  or  real  concern 
for  them ;  and  in  some  cases,  especially  when  the  tem- 
per is  enfeebled  by  sickness,  or  any  long  and  great  dis- 
tress, doubtless,  would  feel  a  kind  of  relief  even  from  the 
helpless  good-will  and  ineffectual  assistances  of  those 
about  them.  Over  against  the  sorrow  of  compassion  is 
likewise  to  be  set  a  peculiar  calm  kind  of  satisfaction, 
which  accompanies  it,  unless  in  cases  where  the  distress 


70  UPON  COMPASSION.  [Seb.  V. 

of  another  is  by  some  means  so  brought  home  to  our- 
selves, as  to  become  in  a  manner  our  own;  or  when  from 
weakness  of  mind  the  affection  rises  too  high,  which 
ought  to  be  corrected.  This  tranquilhty  or  calm  satis- 
faction proceeds  partly  from  consciousness  of  a  right  af- 
fection and  temper  of  mind,  and  partly  from  a  sense  of  our 
own  freedom  from  the  misery  we  compassionate.  This 
last  may  possibly  appear  to  some  at  first  sight  faulty  ; 
but  it  really  is  not  so.  It  is  the  same  with  that  positive 
enjoyment,  which  sudden  ease  from  pain  for  the  present 
affords,  arising  from  a  real  sense  of  misery,  joined  with 
a  sense  of  our  freedom  from  it;  which  in  all  cases  must 
afford  some  degree  of  satisfaction. 

To  these  things  must  be  added  the  observation,  which 
respects  both  the  affections  we  are  considering ;  that 
they  who  have  got  over  all  fellow  feeHng  for  others,  have 
withal  contracted  a  certain  callousness  of  heart,  which 
renders  them  insensible  to  most  other  satisfactions,  but 
those  of  the  grossest  kind. 

Secondly,  Without  the  exercise  of  these  affections, 
men  would  certainly  be  much  more  wanting  in  the  of- 
fices of  charity  they  owe  to  each  other,  and  likewise  more 
cruel  and  injurious,  than  they  are  at  present.  • 

The  private  interest  of  the  individual  would  not  be 
sufficiently  provided  for  by  reasonable  and  cool  self-love 
alone;  therefore  the  appetites  and  passions  are  placed 
within  as  a  guard  and  further  security,  without  which  it 
would  not  be  taken  due  care  of.  It  is  manifest  our  life 
would  be  neglected,  were  it  not  for  the  calls  of  hunger, 
and  thirst,  and  weariness;  notwithstanding  that  without 
them  reason  would  assure  us,  that  the  recruits  of  food 
and  sleep  are  the  necessary  means  of  our  preservation. 
It  is  therefore  absurd  to  imagine,  that  without  affection, 
the  same  reason  alone  would  be  more  effectual  to  en- 
gage us  to  perform  the  duties  we  owe  to  our  fellow 
creatures.  One  of  this  make  would  be  as  dcfc  ctive,  as 
much  wanting,  considered  with  respect  to  society,  as  one 
of  the  former  make  would  be  defective,  or  wanting, 
considered  as  an  individual,  or  in  his  private  capacity. 
Is  it  possible  any  can  in  earnest  think,  that  a  public  spirit, 
i.  e.  a  settled  reasonable  principle  of  benevolence  to 


S£B.  V.l  UPON  COMPASSION.  71 

fnankind,  is  so  prevalent  and  strong  in  the  species,  as  that 
we  may  venture  to  throw  off  the  under  affections,  which 
are  its  assistants,  carry  it  forward  and  mark  out  particu- 
lar courses  for  it ;  family,  friends,  neighbourhood,  the 
distressed,  our  country?  The  common  joys  and  the 
common  sorrows,  which  belong  to  these  relations  and 
circumstances,  are  as  plainly  useful  to  society,  as  the 
pain  and  pleasure  belonging  to  hunger,  thirst,  and  weari- 
ness, are  of  service  to  the  individual.  In  defect  of  that 
higher  principle  of  reason,  compassion  is  often  the  only 
way  by  which  the  indigent  can  have  access  to  us  :  and 
therefore,  to  eradicate  this,  though  it  is  not  indeed  for- 
mally to  deny  them  that  assistance  which  is  their  due ; 
yet  it  is  to  cut  them  off  from  that  which  is  too  frequently 
their  only  way  of  obtaining  it.  And  as  for  those  who 
have  shut  up  this  door  against  the  complaints  of  the 
miserable,  and  conquered  this  affection  in  themselves ; 
even  these  persons  will  be  under  great  restraints  from 
the  same  affection  in  others.  Thus  a  man  who  has  him- 
self no  sense  of  injustice,  cruelty,  oppression,  will  be 
kept  from  running  the  utmost  lengths  of  wickedness,  by 
fear  of  that  detestation,  and  even  resentment  of  inhu- 
manity, in  many  particular  instances  of  it,  which  com- 
passion for  the  object  towards  whom  such  inhumanity 
is  exercised,  excites  in  the  bulk  of  mankind.  And  this 
is  frequently  the  chief  danger,  and  the  chief  restraint, 
which  tyrants  and  the  great  oppressors  of  the  world 
feel. 

In  general,  experience  will  sliow,  that  as  want  of 
natural  appetite  to  food  supposes  and  proceeds  from 
some  bodily  disease;  so  the  apathy  the  Stoics  talk  of,  as 
much  supposes,  or  is  accompanied  with,  somewhat  amiss 
in  the  moral  character,  in  that  which  is  the  health  of  the 
mind.  Those  who  formerly  aimed  at  this  upon  the  foot 
of  ])hil()sophy,  a))])ear  to  have  liad  better  success  in 
eradicating  the  affections  of  tenderness  and  compassion, 
than  they  had  with  the  passions  of  envy,  pride,  and  re- 
sentment: these  latter,  at  best,  were  but  concealed,  and 
(hat  imperfectly  too.  How  far  this  observation  may  be 
extended  to  such  as  endeavour  to  suppress  the  natural 
Mjipulses  of  tlieir  affections,  in  order  to  form  themselves 


72  UPON  COMPASSION..  [Sia. 

for  business  and  the  world,  I  shall  not  determine.  But 
there  does  not  appear  any  capacity  or  relation  to  be 
named,  in  which  men  ought  to  be  entirely  deaf  to  the 
calls  of  affection,  unless  the  judicial  one  is  to  be  ex- 
cepted. 

And  as  to  those  who  are  commonly  called  the  men  of 
pleasure,  it  is  manifest,  that  the  reason  they  set  up  for 
hardness  of  heart,  is  to  avoid  being  interrupted  in  their 
course,  by  the  ruin  and  misery  they  are  the  authors  of: 
neither  are  persons  of  this  character  always  the  most 
free  from  the  impotencies  of  envy  and  resentment. 
What  may  men  at  last  bring  themselves  to,  by  suppres- 
sing their  passions  and  affections  of  one  kind,  and  leav- 
ing those  of  the  other  in  their  full  strength  .^^  But  surely 
it  might  be  expected  that  persons  who  make  pleasure 
their  study  and  their  business,  if  they  understood  what 
they  profess,  would  reflect,  how  many  of  the  entertain- 
ments of  life,  how  many  of  those  kind  of  amusements 
which  seem  peculiarly  to  belong  to  men  of  leisure  and 
education,  they  become  insensible  to  by  this  acquired 
hardness  of  heart. 

I  shall  close  these  reflections  with  barely  mentioning 
the  behaviour  of  that  divine  Person,  who  was  the  exam- 
ple of  all  perfection  in  human  nature,  as  represented  in 
the  Gospels  mourning,  and  even,  in  a  literal  sense, 
weeping  over  the  distresses  of  his  creatures. 

The  observation  alreadv  made,  that,  of  the  two  affec- 
tions  mentioned  in  the  text,  the  latter  exerts  itself  much 
more  than  the  former;  that,  from  the  original  constitu- 
tion of  human  nature,  we  much  more  generally  and 
sensibly  compassionate  the  distressed,  than  rejoice  with 
the  prosperous,  requires  to  be  particularly  considered. 
This  observation,  therefore,  with  the  reflections  which 
arise  out  of  it,  and  which  it  leads  our  thoughts  to,  shall 
be  the  subject  of  another  discourse. 

For  the  conclusion  of  this,  let  me  just  take  notice  of 
the  danger  of  over-great  refinements;  of  going  besides 
or  beyond  the  plain,  obvious,  first  appearances  of  things, 
upon  the  subject  of  morals  and  religion.  The  least  ob- 
servation will  show,  how  little  the  generality  of  men  are 
capable  of  speculations.    Therefore  morality  and  religion- 


Skb.  v.]  UPON  COMPASSION.  73 

must  be  somewhat  plain  and  easy  lo  be  understood:  it 
must  appeal  to  wiiaL  we  call  plain  common  sense,  as 
distinguished  from  superior  capacity  and  improvement ; 
because  it  appeals  to  mankind.  Persons  of  superior 
capacity  and  improvement  have  often  fallen  into  errors, 
which  no  one  of  mere  common  understanding  could. 
Is  it  possible  that  one  of  this  latter  character  could  ever 
of  himself  have  thought,  that  there  was  absolutely  no 
such  thing  in  mankind  as  affection  to  the  good  of  others.^ 
Suppose  of  parents  to  their  children ;  or  that  what  he 
felt  upon  seeing  a  friend  in  distress  was  only  fear  for  him- 
self; or,  upon  supposition  of  the  affections  of  kindness 
and  compassion,  that  it  was  the  business  of  wisdom  and 
virtue  to  set  him  about  extirpating  them  as  fast  as  he 
could  ?  And  yet  each  of  these  manifest  contradictions 
to  nature  has  been  laid  down  by  men  of  speculation,  as 
a  discovery  in  moral  philosophy;  which  they,  it  seems, 
have  found  out  through  all  the  specious  appearances  to 
the  contrary.  This  reflection  may  be  extended  further. 
Tlie  extravagancies  of  enthusiasm  and  superstition  do 
not  at  all  lie  in  the  road  of  common  sense ;  and  there- 
fore, so  far  as  they  are  original  mistakes,  must  be  owing 
to  going  beside  or  beyond  it.  Now,  since  inquiry  and 
examination  can  relate  only  to  things  so  obscure  and 
uncertain  as  to  stand  in  need  of  it,  and  to  persons  who 
are  capable  of  it ;  the  proper  advice  to  be  given  to  plain 
honest  men,  to  secure  them  from  the  extremes  both  of 
superstition  and  irreligion,  is  that  of  the  son  of  Sirach  : 
In  every  good  icork  trust  thy  own  soul ;  for  this  is  the 
keeping  of  the  commandment* 


74 


UPON  COMPASSION. 


Smu  VI. 


SERMON  VI. 

UPON  COMPASSION. 
PREACUED  THE  FIRST  SUNDAY  IN  I-ENT. 

Rejoice  with  them  that  do  rejoice,  and  weep  icith  them  that  tceep, — 

Rom.  xii.  15. 

There  is  a  much  more  exact  correspondence  between 
the  natural  and  moral  world,  than  we  are  apt  to  take 
notice  of.  The  inward  frame  of  man  does  in  a  peculiar 
manner  answer  to  the  external  condition  and  circum- 
stances of  life,  in  which  he  is  placed.  This  is  a  particular 
instance  of  that  general  observation  of  the  son  of  Sirach: 
All  things  are  double  one  against  another,  and  God  hath 
made  nothing  imperfect*  The  several  passions  and  af- 
fections in  the  heart  of  man,  compared  with  the  circum- 
stances of  life  in  which  he  is  placed,  afford,  to  such  as 
Avill  attend  to  them,  as  certain  instances  of  final  causes, 
as  any  whatever,  which  are  more  commonly  alleged  for 
such:  since  those  affections  lead  him  to  a  certain  deter- 
minate course  of  action  suitable  to  those  circumstances, 
as  (for  instance)  compassion,  to  relieve  the  distressed. 
And  as  all  observations  of  final  causes,  drawn  from  the 
principles  of  action  in  the  heart  of  man,  compared  with 
the  condition  he  is  placed  in,  serve  all  the  good  uses 
which  instances  of  final  causes  in  the  material  world 
about  us  do ;  and  both  these  are  equally  proofs  of  wisdom 
and  design  in  the  Author  of  nature:  so  the  former  serve 
to  further  good  purposes;  they  show  us  what  course  of 
life  we  are  made  for,  what  is  our  duty,  and  in  a  peculiar 
manner  enforco  upon  us  the  practice  of  it. 

Suppose  we  are  capable  of  happiness  and  of  misery  in 
degrees  equally  intense  and  extreme,  yet,  we  are  capable 
of  the  latter  for  a  much  lono^er  time,  beyond  all  com- 
parison. We  see  men  in  the  tortures  of  pain  for  hours, 
days,  and,  excepting  the  sjiort  suspensions  of  sleep,  for 
months  together,  without  intermission;  to  which  no  en- 
joyments of  life  do,  in  degree  and  continuance,  bear  any 

*  Ecclus.  xlii.  24. 


SER.VI.]  UPON  COMPASSION.  75 

sort  of  proportion.  And  such  is  our  make  and  that  of 
the  Avorld  about  us,  that  any  thing  may  become  the 
mstrument  of  pain  and  sorrow  to  us.  Thus  almost  any 
one  man  is  capable  of  doing  mischief  to  any  other,  though 
he  may  not  be  capable  of  doing  him  good:  and  if  he  be 
capable  of  doing  him  some  good,  he  is  capable  of  doing 
him  more  evil.  And  it  is,  in  numberless  cases,  much 
more  in  our  power  to  lessen  the  miseries  of  others,  than 
to  promote  their  positive  happiness,  any  otherwise  than 
as  the  former  often  includes  the  latter;  ease  from  misery 
occasioning  for  some  time  the  greatest  positive  enjoy- 
ment. This  constitution  of  nature,  namely,  that  it  is  so 
much  more  in  our  power  to  occasion  and  likewise  to 
lessen  misery,  than  to  promote  positive  happiness,  plainly 
required  a  particular  affection,  to  hinder  us  from  abusing, 
and  to  incline  us  to  make  a  right  use  of  the  former 
powers,  i.  e.  the  powers  both  to  occasion  and  to  lessen 
misery;  over  and  above  what  was  necessary  to  induce 
ns  to  make  a  right  use  of  the  latter  power,  that  of  pro- 
moting positive  happiness.  The  power  we  have  over 
the  misery  of  our  fellow  creatures,  to  occasion  or  lessen 
it,  being  a  more  important  trust  than  the  power  we  have 
of  promoting  their  positive  happiness;  the  former  re- 
quires and  has  a  further,  an  additional  security  and 
guard  against  its  being  violated,  beyond  and  over  and 
above  what  the  latter  has.  The  social  nature  of  man, 
and  general  good-will  to  his  species,  equally  prevent  him 
from  doing  evil,  incline  him  to  relieve  the  distressed,  and 
to  promote  the  positive  happiness  of  his  fellow  creatures: 
but  compassion  only  restrains  him  from  the  first,  and 
carries  him  to  the  second;  it  hath  nothing  to  do  with  the 
third. 

The  final  causes  then  of  compassion  arc  to  prevent 
and  to  relieve  misery. 

As  to  the  former:  this  affection  may  ])lainly  bo  a 
restraint  upon  resentment,  envy,  unreasonable  self-love; 
that  is,  upon  all  the  principles  from  which  men  do  evil 
to  one  another.  Let  us  instance  only  in  resentment. 
It  seldom  happens,  in  regulated  societies,  that  men  have 
an  enemy  so  entirely  in  their  power,  as  to  be  able  to 
satiate  their  resentment  with  safety.    Hut  if  we  were  to 


76  UPON  COMPASSION.  [Skb.  VL 

put  tnis  case,  it  is  plainly  supposable,  that  a  person  might 
bring  his  enemy  into  such  a  condition,  as  from  being  the 
object  of  anger  and  rage,  to  become  an  object  of  com- 
passion, even  to  himself,  though  the  most  mahcious  man 
in  the  world:  and  in  this  case  compassion  would  stop 
him,  if  he  could  stop  with  safety,  from  pursuing  his  re- 
venge any  further.  But  since  nature  has  placed  within 
us  more  powerful  restraints  to  prevent  mischief,  and 
since  the  final  cause  of  compassion  is  much  more  to 
relieve  misery,  let  us  go  on  to  the  consideration  of  it  in 
this  view. 

As  this  world  was  not  intended  to  be  a  state  of  any 
great  satisfaction  or  high  enjoyment;  so  neither  was  it 
intended  to  be  a  mere  scene  of  unhappiness  and  sorrow. 
Mitigations  and  reliefs  are  provided  by  the  merciful 
Author  of  nature,  for  most  of  the  afflictions  in  human 
life.  There  is  kind  provision  made  even  against  our 
frailties ;  as  we  are  so  constituted,  that  time  abundantly 
abates  our  sorrows,  and  begets  in  us  that  resignment  of 
temper,  which  ought  to  have  been  produced  by  a  better 
cause  ;  a  due  sense  of  the  authority  of  God,  and  our  state 
of  dependence.  This  holds  in  respect  to  far  the  greatest 
part  of  the  evils  of  life  ;  I  suppose,  in  some  degn  e  as  to 
pain  and  sickness.  Now  this  part  of  the  constitution  or 
make  of  man,  considered  as  some  relief  to  misery,  and 
not  as  provision  for  positive  happiness,  is,  if  I  may  so 
speak,  an  instance  of  nature's  compassion  for  us:  and 
every  natural  remedy  or  relief  to  misery  may  be  con  - 
sidered in  the  same  view. 

But  since  in  many  cases  it  is  very  much  in  our  power 
to  alleviate  the  miseries  of  each  other;  and  benevolence, 
though  natural  in  man  to  man,  yet  is  in  a  very  low  degree 
kept  down  by  interest  and  competitions;  and  men,  for 
the  most  part,  are  so  engaged  in  the  business  and 
pleasures  of  the  world,  as  to  overlook  and  turn  away 
from  objects  of  misery;  which  are  plainly  considered  as 
interruptions  to  them  in  their  way,  as  intruders  upon 
their  business,  their  gaiety  and  mirth;  compassion  is  an 
advocate  within  us  in  their  behalf,  to  gain  the  unhappy 
admittance  and  access,  to  make  their  case  attended  to. 
If  it  sometimes  serves  a  contrary  purpose,  and  makea 


Sjk.  VI.]  UPON  COMPASSION.  77 

men  industriously  turn  away  from  the  miserable,  these 
are  only  instances  of  abuse  and  perversion :  for  the  end, 
for  which  the  affection  was  given  us,  most  certainly  is  not 
to  make  us  avoid,  but  to  make  us  attend  to,  the  objects 
of  it.  And  if  men  would  only  resolve  to  allow  thus  much 
to  it;  let  it  bring  before  their  view,  the  view  of  their 
mind,  the  miseries  of  their  fellow  creatures;  let  it  gain 
for  them  that  their  case  be  considered;  I  am  persuaded 
it  would  not  fail  of  gaining  more,  and  that  very  few  real 
objects  of  charity  would  pass  unrelieved.  Pain  and 
sorrow  and  misery  have  a  right  to  our  assistance:  com- 
passion puts  us  in  mind  of  the  debt,  and  that  we  owe  it 
to  ourselves  as  well  as  to  the  distressed.  For,  to  en- 
deavour to  get  rid  of  the  sorrow  of  compassion  by  turning 
from  the  wretched,  when  yet  it  is  in  our  power  to  relieve 
them,  is  as  unnatural,  as  to  endeavour  to  get  rid  of  the 
pain  of  hunger  by  keeping  from  the  sight  of  food.  That 
we  can  do  one  with  greater  success  than  we  can  the 
other,  is  no  proof  that  one  is  less  a  violation  of  nature 
than  the  other.  Compassion  is  a  call,  a  demand  of  na- 
ture, to  relieve  the  unhappy;  as  hunger  is  a  natural  call 
for  food.  This  affection  plainly  gives  the  objects  of  it 
an  additional  claim  to  relief  and  mercy,  over  and  above 
what  our  fellow  creatures  in  common  have  to  our  good-will. 
Liberality  and  bounty  are  exceedingly  commendable;  and 
a  particular  distinction  in  such  a  world  as  this,  where  men 
set  themselves  to  contract  their  heart,  and  close  it  to  all 
interests  but  their  own.  It  is  by  no  means  to  be  opposed 
to  mercy,  but  always  accompanies  it:  the  distinction 
between  them  is  only,  that  the  former  leads  our  thoughts 
to  a  more  promiscuous  and  undistinguished  distribution 
of  favours;  to  those  who  are  not,  as  well  as  those  who 
are  necessitous;  whereas  the  object  of  compassion  is 
misery.  But  in  the  comparison,  and  where  there  is  not 
a  possibility  of  both,  mercy  is  to  have  the  preference: 
the  affection  of  compassion  manifestly  leads  us  to  this 
preference.  Thus,  to  relieve  the  indigent  and  distressed, 
to  single  out  the  unhapjn',  from  whom  can  be  (xpcctcd 
no  returns  cither  of  ])rcsent  (Mitertainmcnt  or  future  ser- 
vice, for  the  objects  of  our  favours;  to  esteem  a  man'> 
being  friendless  as  a  reconimeiulation ;  dejection,  and 


78  UPON  COMPASSION.  [Ser.  TI. 

incapacity  of  struggling  through  the  world,  as  a  motive 
for  assisting  him ;  in  a  word,  to  consider  these  circum- 
stances of  disadvantage,  which  are  usually  thought  a 
sufficient  reason  for  neglect  and  overlooking  a  person, 
as  a  motive  for  helping  him  forward:  this  is  the  course 
of  benevolence  which  compassion  marks  out  and 
directs  us  to;  this  is  that  humanity,  which  is  so  pe- 
culiarly becoming  our  nature  and  circumstances  in  this 
world. 

To  these  considerations,  drawn  from  the  nature  of 
man,  must  be  added  the  reason  of  the  thing  itself  we  are 
recommending,  which  accords  to  and  shows  the  same. 
For  since  it  is  so  much  more  in  our  power  to  lessen  the 
misery  of  our  fellow  creatures,  than  to  promote  their 
positive  happiness;  in  cases  where  there  is  an  inconsis- 
tency, we  shall  be  likely  to  do  much  more  good  by  setting 
ourselves  to  mitigate  the  former,  than  by  endeavouring 
to  promote  the  latter.  Let  the  competition  be  between 
the  poor  and  the  rich.  It  is  easy,  you  will  say,  to  see 
which  will  have  the  preference.  True :  but  the  question 
is,  which  ought  to  have  the  preference?  What  propor- 
tion is  there  between  the  happiness  produced  by  doing  a 
favour  to  the  indigent,  and  that  produced  by  doing  the 
same  favour  to  one  in  easy  circumstances.^  It  is  mani- 
fest, that  the  addition  of  a  very  large  estate  to  one  who 
before  had  an  affluence,  will  in  many  instances  yield 
him  less  new  enjoyment  or  satisfaction,  than  an  ordinary 
charity  would  yield  to  a  necessitous  person.  So  that  it 
is  not  only  true,  that  our  nature,  i.  e.  the  voice  of  God 
within  us,  carries  us  to  the  exercise  of  chanty  and  bene- 
volence in  the  way  of  compassion  or  mercy,  preferably 
to  any  other  way ;  but  we  also  manifestly  discern  much 
more  good  done  by  the  former;  or,  if  you  will  allow  me 
the  expressions,  more  misery  annihilated,  and  happiness 
created.  If  charity  and  benevolence,  and  endeavouring  to 
do  good  to  our  fellow  creatures,  be  any  thing,  this  obser- 
vation deserves  to  be  most  seriously  considered  by  all 
who  have  to  bestow.  And  it  holds  with  great  exactness, 
when  applied  to  the  several  degree  s  of  greater  and  less 
indigency  throughout  the  various  ranks  in  human  life  : 
the  happiness  or  good  produced  not  being  in  proportion 


Sk„,  Vi.i  UPON  COMPASSION.  79 

to  wliat  is  bestowed,  but  in  proportion  to  this  joined  with 
the  r.'eed  there  was  of  it. 

It  may  perhaps  be  expected,  that  upon  this  subject 
notice  should  be  taken  of  occasions,  circumstances,  and 
characters,  which  seem  at  once  to  call  forth  affections  of 
different  sorts.  Thus  vice  may  be  thought  the  object 
both  of  pity  and  indignation:  folly,  of  pity  and  of  laughter. 
How  far  this  is  strictly  true,  I  shall  not  inquire;  but  only 
observe  upon  the  appearance,  how  niuch  more  humane 
it  is  to  yield  and  give  scope  to  affections,  which  are  most 
directly  in  favour  of,  and  friendly  towards,  our  fellow 
creatures;  and  that  there  is  plainly  much  less  danger  of 
being  led  wrong  by  these,  than  by  the  other. 

But,  notwithstanding  all  that  has  been  said  in  recom- 
mendation of  compassion,  that  it  is  most  amiable,  most 
becoming  human  nature,  and  most  useful  to  the  world; 
yet  it  must  be  owned,  that  every  affection,  as  distinct 
from  a  principle  of  reason,  may  rise  too  high,  and  be 
beyond  its  just  proportion.  And  by  means  of  this  one 
carried  too  far,  a  man  throughout  his  life  is  subject  to 
much  more  uneasiness  than  belongs  to  his  share :  and  in 
particular  instances,  it  may  be  in  such  a  degree  as  to 
incapacitate  him  from  assisting  the  very  person  who  is 
the  object  of  it.  But  as  there  are  some  who  upon  prin- 
ciple set  up  for  suppressing  this  affection  itself  as  weak- 
ness, there  is  also  I  know  not  what  of  fashion  on  this 
side;  and,  by  some  means  or  other,  the  whole  world 
ahnost  is  run  into  the  extremes  of  insensibility  towards 
the  distresses  of  their  fellow  creatures:  so  that  general 
rules  and  exhortations  must  always  be  on  the  other  side. 

And  now  to  go  on  to  the  uses  we  should  make  of  the 
foregoing  reflections,  the  further  ones  tliey  lead  to,  and 
the  general  temper  they  have  a  tendency  to  beget  in  us. 
There  being  that  distinct  affection  implanted  in  the  na- 
ture of  man,  tending  to  lessen  the  miseries  of  life,  tliat 
])articular  provision  made  for  aliatini;  its  sorrows,  more 
than  for  increasing  its  positive  happiness,  as  before  ex- 
plained; this  may  suggest  to  us  what  should  be  our  gen- 
eral aim  respecting  ourselves,  in  our  passage  through  this 
world:  namely,  to  endeavo.ir  chiefly  to  escape  i^iisery, 
keep  free  from  uneasiness,  pam,  and  sorrow,  or  to  get 


f 


80  UPON  COMPASSION.  [Ser.  VI. 

relief  and  mitigation  of  them ;  to  propose  to  ourselves 
peace  and  tranquillity  of  mind,  rather  than  pursue  after 
high  enjoyments.  This  is  what  the  constitution  of  nature 
before  explained  marks  out  as  the  course  we  should  fol- 
low, and  the  end  we  should  aim  at.  To  make  pleasure 
and  mirth  and  jollity  our  business,  and  be  constantly  hur- 
rying about  after  some  gay  amusement,  some  new  grati- 
fication of  sense  or  appetite,  to  those  who  will  consider  the 
nature  of  man  and  our  condition  in  this  world,  will  appear 
the  most  romantic  scheme  of  life  that  ever  entered  into 
thought.  And  yet  how  many  are  there  who  go  on  in 
this  course,  without  learning  better  from  the  daily,  the 
hourly  disappointments,  listlessness,  and  satiety,  which 
accompany  this  fashionable  method  of  wasting  away  their 
days ! 

The  subject  we  have  been  insisting  upon  would  lead 
us  into  the  same  kind  of  reflections,  by  a  different  con- 
nexion. The  miseries  of  life  brought  home  to  ourselves 
by  compassion,  viewed  through  this  affection  considered 
as  the  sense  by  which  they  are  perceived,  would  beget 
in  us  that  moderation,  humility,  and  soberness  of  mind, 
which  has  been  now  recommended;  and  which  peculiarly 
belongs  to  a  season  of  recollection,  the  only  purpose  of 
w^hich  is  to  bring  us  to  a  just  sense  of  things,  to  recover 
us  out  of  that  forgetfulness  of  ourselves,  and  our  true 
state,  which  it  is  manifest  far  the  greatest  part  of  men 
pass  their  whole  life  in.  Upon  this  account  Solomon 
says,  that  it  is  better  to  go  to  the  house  of  mourning,  than 
to  go  to  the  house  of  feasting  ;  i.  e.  it  is  more  to  a  man's 
advantage  to  turn  his  eyes  towards  objects  of  distress,  to 
recall  sometimes  to  his  remembrance  the  occasions  of 
sorrow,  than  to  pass  all  his  days  in  thoughtless  mirth 
and  gaiety.  And  he  represents  the  wise  as  choosing  to 
frequent  the  former  of  these  places ;  to  be  sure  not  for 
its  own  sake,  but  because  by  the  sadness  of  the  counte- 
nance  the  heart  is  made  better.  Every  one  observes  how 
temperate  and  reasonable  men  are  when  humbled  and 
brought  low  by  afflictions,  in  comparison  of  what  they 
are  in  high  ])rosperity.  By  this  voluntary  resort  to  the 
house  of  mourning,  which  is  here  recommended,  we 
might  learn  all  those  useful  instructions  which  calamities 


Skb.  VI.]  UPON  COMPASSION.  81 

teach,  without  undergoing  them  ourselves;  'and  grow 
wiser  and  better  at  a  more  easy  rate  than  men  com- 
monly do.  The  objects  themselves,  which  in  that  place 
of  sorrow  lie  before  our  view,  naturally  give  us  a  seri- 
ousness and  attention,  check  that  wantonness  which  is 
the  growth  of  prosperity  and  ease,  and  lead  us  to  reflect 
upon  the  deficiencies  of  human  life  itself;  that  every  many 
at  Ms  best  estate,  is  altogether  vanity.  This  would  correct 
the  florid  and  gaudy  prospects  and  expectations  which 
we  are  too  apt  to  indulge,  teach  us  to  lower  our  notions 
of  happiness  and  enjoyment,  bring  them  down  to  the 
reality  of  things,  to  what  is  attainable,  to  what  the  frailty 
of  our  condition  will  admit  of,  which,  for  any  continu- 
ance, is  only  tranquiUity,  ease,  and  moderate  satisfac- 
tions. Thus  we  might  at  once  become  proof  against  the 
temptations  with  which  the  whole  world  almost  is  carried 
away ;  since  it  is  plain,  that  not  only  what  is  called  a  hfe  of 
pleasure,  but  also  vicious  pursuits  in  general,  aim  at  some- 
what besides  and  beyond  these  moderate  satisfactions. 

And  as  to  that  obstinacy  and  wilfulness,  which  renders 
men  so  insensible  to  the  motives  of  religion;  this  right 
sense  of  ourselves  and  of  the  world  about  us  would  bend 
the  stubborn  mind,  soften  the  heart,  and  make  it  more 
apt  to  receive  impression :  and  this  is  the  proper  temper 
in  which  to  call  our  ways  to  remembrance,  to  review  and 
set  home  upon  ourselves  the  miscarriages  of  our  past 
life.  In  such  a  compliant  state  of  mind,  reason  and 
conscience  will  have  a  fair  hearing;  which  is  the  pre- 
paration for,  or  rather  the  beginning  of,  that  repentance, 
the  outward  show  of  which  we  all  put  on  at  this  season. 

Lastly,  The  various  miseries  of  life  which  lie  before  us 
wherever  we  turn  our  eyes,  the  frailty  of  this  mortal  state 
we  are  passing  through,  may  put  us  in  mind  that  the 
present  world  is  not  our  home;  that  we  are  mertly 
strangers  and  travellers  in  it,  as  all  our  fathers  were. 
It  is  therefore  to  be  considered  as  a  foreign  country;  in 
which  our  poverty  and  wants,  and  the  insufficient  sup- 
plies of  them,  were  designed  to  turn  our  views  to  that 
liigher  and  better  state  we  are  heirs  to:  a  state  where 
will  be  no  follies  to  be  overlooked,  no  miseries  to  be 
pitied,  no  wants  to  be  relieved;  where  the  affection  we 

F 


82  UPON  THE  CHARACTER  £Sra.  Ylh 

have  been*now  treating  of  will  happily  be  lost,  as  there 
will  be  no  objects  to  exercise  it  upon:  for  God  shall  wipe 
away  all  tears  from  their  eyes,  and  there  shall  he  no  more 
death,  neither  sorrow,  nor  crying :  neither  shall  there  he 
any  more  vain  ;  for  the  former  things  are  passed  away. 


SERMON  VIL 

UPON  THE  CHARACTER  OF  BALAAM. 

PREACHED  THE  SECOND  SUNDAY  AFTER  EASTER. 

Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be  like  his. 
Numb,  xxiii.  10. 

These  words,  taken  alone,  and  without  respect  to  him 
who  spoke  them,  lead  our  thoughts  immediately  to  the 
different  ends  of  good  and  bad  men.  For  though  the 
comparison  is  not  expressed,  yet  it  is  manifestly  implied ; 
as  is  also  the  preference  of  one  of  these  characters  to 
the  other  in  that  last  circumstance,  death.  And,  since 
dying  the  death  of  the  righteous  or  of  the  wicked  neces- 
sarily implies  men  s  being  righteous  or  wicked,  i.  e, 
having  lived  righteously  or  wickedly ;  a  comparison  of 
them  in  their  lives  also  might  come  into  consideration, 
from  such  a  single  view  of  the  words  themselves.  But 
my  present  design  is  to  consider  them  with  a  particular 
reference  or  respect  to  him  who  spoke  them;  which 
reference,  if  you  please  to  attend,  you  will  see.  And  it 
what  shall  be  offered  to  your  consideration  at  this  time 
be  thought  a  discourse  upon  the  whole  history  of  this 
man,  rather  than  upon  the  particular  words  I  have  read, 
this  is  of  no  consequence ;  it  is  sufficient,  if  it  afford  re- 
flection of  use  and  service  to  ourselves. 

But,  in  order  to  avoid  cavils  respecting  this  remarkable 
relation  in  Scripture,  either  that  part  of  it  which  you 
have  heard  in  the  first  lesson  for  the  day,  or  any  others ; 
let  me  just  observe,  that  as  this  is  not  a  place  for  an- 
swering them,  so  they  no  way  affect  the  following  dis- 
course;  since  the  character  there  given  is  plainly  a  real 
one  in  life,  and  such  as  there  are  parallels  to. 


V 


Sa.  Vn.]  OF  BALAAM.  8S 

The  occasion  of  Balaam's  coming  out  of  liis  own 
country  into  the  land  of  Moab,  where  he  pronounced 
this  solemn  prayer  or  wish,  he  himself  relates  in  the 
first  parable  or  prophetic  speech,  of  which  it  is  the  con- 
clusion. In  which  is  a  custom  referred  to,  proper  to  be 
taken  notice  of:  that  of  devoting  enemies  to  destruction, 
before  the  entrance  upon  a  war  with  them.  This  custom 
appears  to  have  prevailed  over  a  great  part  of  the  world ; 
for  we  find  it  amongst  the  most  distant  nations.  The 
Romans  had  public  officers,  to  whom  it  belonged  as  a 
stated  part  of  their  office.  But  there  was  somewhat 
more  particular  in  the  case  now  before  us;  Balaam 
being  looked  upon  as  an  extraordinary  person,  whose 
blessing  or  curse  was  thought  to  be  always  effectual. 

In  order  to  engage  the  reader's  attention  to  this  pas- 
sage, the  sacred  historian  has  enumerated  the  preparatory 
circumstances,  which  are  these.  Balaam  requires  tlie 
king  of  Moab  to  build  him  seven  altars,  and  to  prepare 
him  the  same  number  of  oxen  and  of  rams.  The  sacri- 
fice being  over,  he  retires  alone  to  a  solitude  sacred  to 
these  occasions,  there  to  wait  the  divine  inspiration  or 
answer,  for  which  the  foregoing  rites  were  the  prepara- 
tion. And  God  met  Balaam,  and  put  a  tcord  in  his 
mouth;*  upon  receiving  which,  he  returns  back  to  the 
altars,  where  was  the  king,  who  had  all  this  while  at- 
tended the  sacrifice,  as  appointed;  he  and  all  the  princes 
of  Moab  standing,  big  with  expectation  of  the  propliet's 
reply.  And  he  took  up  his  parable,  and  said,  Balak  the 
king  of  Moab  hath  brought  me  from  Aram,  out  of  the 
mountains  of  the  east,  saying.  Come,  curse  m£  Jacob,  and 
come,  defy  Israel.  How  shall  I  curse,  whom  God  hath  not 
cursed  ^  Or  how  shall  I  defy,  ichom  the  Lord  hath  not 
defied?  For  from  the  top  of  the  rocks  I  see  him,  and  from 
the  hills  I  behold  him  :  to,  the  people  shall  dwell  alone y  and 
shall  not  be  reckoned  among  tlie  nations,  IVho  can  count 
the  dust  of  Jacob,  and  the  number  of  the  fourth  part  of 
Israel?  Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let  my 
last  end  be  like  his.f 

It  is  necessary,  as  you  will  see  in  the  progress  of  this 
discourse,  particularly  to  observe  what  he  understood 

♦  Ver.  4,  5.  t  Vcr.  6 


84  UPON  THE  CHARACTER  [Ser.  VH. 

by  righteous.  And  he  himself  is  introduced  in  the 
book  of  Micah*  explaining  it;  if  by  righteous  is  meant 
good,  as  to  be  sure  it  is.  0  my  people,  remember  now 
what  Balalc  king  of  Moah  consulted,  and  what  Balaam 
the  son  of  Beor  answered  him  from  Shittim  unto  Gilgal. 
From  the  mention  of  Shittim,  it  is  manifest,  that  it  is 
this  very  story  which  is  here  referred  to,  though  another 
part  of  it,  the  account  of  which  is  not  now  extant;  as 
there  are  many  quotations  in  Scripture  out  of  books 
which  are  not  come  down  to  us.  Remember  what  Balaam 
answered,  that  ye  may  know  the  righteousness  of  the  Lord  ; 
i.  e.  the  righteousness  which  God  will  accept.  Balak 
demands.  Wherewith  shall  I  come  before  the  Lord,  and 
bow  myself  before  the  high  God?  Shall  I  come  before  him 
with  burnt -offerings,  with  calves  of  a  year  old?  Will  the 
Lord  be  pleased  with  thousands  of  rams,  or  with  ten  thou- 
sands  of  rivers  of  oil  ?  Shall  I  give  my  first-born  for  my 
transgression,  the  fruit  of  my  body  for  the  sin  of  my  soul  ? 
Balaam  answers  him,  He  hath  showed  thee,  O  man,  what 
is  good :  and  what  doth  the  Lord  require  of  thee,  but  to  do 
justly,  and  to  love  mercy,  and  to  walk  humbly  with  thy 
God?  Here  is  a  good  man  expressly  characterized,  as 
distinct  from  a  dishonest  and  a  superstitious  man.  No 
words  can  more  strongly  exclude  dishonesty  and  false- 
ness of  heart,  than  doing  justice,  and  Icming  mercy :  and 
both  these,  as  well  as  walking  humbly  with  God,  are  put 
in  opposition  to  those  ceremonial  methods  of  recom- 
mendation, which  Balak  hoped  might  have  served  the 
turn.  From  hence  appears  what  he  meant  by  the 
righteous  whose  death  he  desires  to  die. 

Whether  it  was  his  own  character  shall  now  be  in- 
quired :  and  in  order  to  determine  it,  we  must  take  a 
view  of  his  whole  behaviour  upon  this  occasion.  When 
the  elders  of  Moab  came  to  him,  though  he  appears  to 
have  been  much  allured  with  the  rewards  offered,  yet  he 
had  such  regard  to  the  authority  of  God,  as  to  keep  the 
messengers  in  suspense  until  he  had  consulted  his  will. 
And  God  said  to  him.  Thou  shall  not  go  with  them,  thou 
shall  not  curse  the  people,  for  they  are  blessed.^  Upon 
this  he  dismisses  the  ambassadors,  with  an  absolute  re- 


*  Micah  vi. 


t  Chap.  xxii.  12, 


Sat.  VIL]  OP  BALAAM.  85 

fusal  of  accompanying  them  back  to  their  king.  Thus 
far  his  regards  to  duty  prevailed,  neither  does  there  any 
thing  appear  as  yet  amiss  in  his  conduct.  His  answer 
being  reported  to  the  king  of  Moab,  a  more  honourable 
embassy  is  immediately  despatched,  and  greater  rewards 
proposed.  Then  the  iniquity  of  his  heart  began  to  dis- 
close itself.  A  thorough  honest  man  would  without 
hesitation  have  repeated  his  former  answer,  that  he  could 
not  be  guilty  of  so  infamous  a  prostitution  of  the  sacred 
character  with  which  he  was  invested,  as  in  the  name  of 
a  prophet  to  curse  those  whom  he  knew  to  be  blessed. 
But  instead  of  this,  which  was  the  only  honest  part  in 
these  circumstances  that  lay  before  him,  he  desires  the 
princes  of  Moab  to  tarry  that  night  with  him  also  ;  and  for 
the  sake  of  the  reward  dehberates,  whether  by  some 
means  or  other  he  might  not  be  able  to  obtain  leave  to 
curse  Israel ;  to  do  that,  which  had  been  before  revealed 
to  him  to  be  contrary  to  the  will  of  God,  which  yet  he 
resolves  not  to  do  without  that  permission.  Upon 
which,  as  when  this  nation  afterward  rejected  God  from 
reigning  over  them,  he  gave  them  a  king  in  his  anger ; 
in  the  same  way,  as  appears  from  other  parts  of  the  nar- 
ration, he  gives  Balaam  the  permission  he  desired :  for 
this  is  the  most  natural  sense  of  the  words.  Arriving 
in  the  territories  of  Moab,  and  being  received  with  par- 
ticular distinction  by  the  king,  and  he  repeating  in  person 
the  promise  of  the  rewards  he  had  before  made  to  him 
by  his  ambassadors :  he  seeks,  the  text  says,  by  sacrifices 
and  enchaniments  (what  these  were  is  not  to  our  purpose), 
to  obtain  leave  of  God  to  curse  the  people;  keeping  still 
his  resolution,  not  to  do  it  without  that  permission: 
which  not  being  able  to  obtain,  he  had  such  regard  to 
the  command  of  God,  as  to  keep  this  resolution  to  the 
last  The  supposition  of  his  being  under  a  supernatural 
restraint  is  a  mere  fiction  of  Philo:  he  is  ])hiinly  repre- 
sented to  be  under  no  other  force  or  restraint,  than  tlie 
fear  of  God.  However,  he  goes  on  persevering  in  that 
endeavour,  after  he  had  declared,  that  God  had  not  bc^ 
held  iniquitij  in  Jacob,  neither  had  he  seat  ]>erversrfiess  in 
hrael;^  i.  e.  they  were  a  people  of  virtue  and  piety,  so 

*  Vcr.  L'l. 


86  UPON  THE  CHARACTEK  {^Seh.  VIL 

far  as  not  to  have  drawn  down,  by  their  iniquity,  that 
curse  which  he  was  soliciting  leave  to  pronounce  upon 
them.  So  that  the  state  of  Balaam's  mind  was  this:  he 
waTited  to  do  what  he  knew  to  be  very  wicked,  and  con- 
trary to  the  express  command  of  God;  he  had  inward 
checks  and  restraints,  which  he  could  not  entirely  get 
over;  he  therefore  casts  about  for  ways  to  reconcile  this 
wickedness  with  his  duty.  How  great  a  paradox  soever 
this  may  appear,  as  it  is  indeed  a  contradiction  in  terms, 
it  is  the  very  account  which  the  scripture  gives  us  of  him. 
But  there  is  a  more  surprising  piece  of  iniquity  yet  be- 
hind. Not  daring  in  his  religious  character,  as  a  prophet^ 
to  assist  the  king  of  Moab,  he  considers  whether  there 
might  not  be  found  some  other  means  of  assisting  him 
against  that  very  people^  whom  he  himself  by  the  fear  of 
God  was  restrained  from  cursing  in  words.  One  would 
not  think  it  possible,  that  the  weakness,  even  of  religious 
self-deceit  in  its  utmost  excess,  could  have  so  poor  a 
distinction,  so  fond  an  evasion,  to  serve  itself  of.  But 
so  it  was:  and  he  could  think  of  no  other  method,  than 
to  betray  the  children  of  Israel  to  provoke  his  wrath^ 
who  was  their  only  strength  and  defence.  The  tempta- 
tion which  he  pitched  upon,  was  that  concerning  which 
Solomon  afterward  observed,  that  it  had  cast  down  many 
wounded;  yea,  many  strong  men  had  been  slain  by  it:  and 
of  which  he  himself  was  a  sad  example,  when  his  wives 
turned  away  his  heart  after  other  gods.  This  succeeded : 
the  people  sin  against  God;  and  thus  the  prophet's 
counsel  brought  on  that  destruction,  which  he  could  by 
no  means  be  prevailed  upon  to  assist  with  the  religious 
ceremony  of  execration,  which  the  king  of  Moab  thought 
would  itself  have  effected  it.  Their  crime  and  punish- 
ment are  related  in  Deuteronomy,*  and  Numbers. t  And 
from  the  relation  repeated  in  Numbers,^  it  appears,  that 
Balaam  was  the  contriver  of  the  whole  matter.  It  is 
also  ascribed  to  him  in  the  Revelation,}  where  he  is  said 
to  have  taught  Balak  to  cast  a  stumbling -block  before  the 
children  of  Israel. 

This  was  the  man,  this  Balaam,  I  say,  was  the  man 
•who  desired  to  die  the  death  of  the  righteouSy  and  that  his 

*  Chap.  iv.         t  Chap,  xxv  J  Chap.  xxxi.         ^  Cliap.  n. 


Sffl.  Vn.^  i  OF  BALAAM.  87 

last  end  might  be  like  his:  and  this  was  the  state  of  his 
mind,  when  he  pronounced  these  words. 

So  that  the  object  we  have  now  before  us  is  the  most 
astonishing  in  the  world:  a  very  wicked  man,  under  a 
deep  sense  of  God  and  rehgion,  persisting  still  in  his 
wickedness,  and  preferring  the  wages  of  unrighteousness, 
even  when  he  had  before  him  a  lively  view  of  death,  and 
that  approaching  period  of  his  days,  which  should  deprive 
him  of  all  those  advantages  for  which  he  was  prostitut- 
ing himself;  and  likewise  a  prospect,  whether  certain  or 
uncertain,  of  a  future  state  of  retribution  :  all  this  joined 
with  an  explicit  ardent  wish,  that,  when  he  was  to  leave 
this  world,  he  might  be  in  the  condition  of  a  righteous 
man.  Good  God,  what  inconsistency,  what  perplexity 
is  here !  With  what  different  views  of  things,  with  what 
contradictory  principles  of  action,  must  such  a  mind  be 
torn  and  distracted!  It  was  not  unthinking  carelessness, 
by  which  he  ran  on  headlong  in  vice  and  folly,  without 
ever  making  a  stand  to  ask  himself  what  he  was  doing: 
no;  he  acted  upon  the  cool  motives  of  interest  and  ad- 
vantage. Neither  was  he  totally  hard  and  callous  to 
impressions  of  rehgion,  what  we  call  abandoned;  for  he 
absolutely  denied  to  curse  Israel.  When  reason  assumes 
her  place,  when  convinced  of  his  duty,  when  he  owns 
and  feels,  and  is  actually  under  the  influence  of  the  divine 
authority ;  whilst  he  is  carrying  on  his  views  to  the  grave, 
the  end  of  all  temporal  greatness;  under  this  sense  of 
things,  with  the  better  character  and  more  desirable  state 
present — full  before  him  — in  his  thouglits,  in  his  wishes, 
voluntarily  to  choose  the  worse — what  fatality  is  here! 
Or  how  otherwise  can  such  a  character  be  explained? 
And  yet  strange  as  it  may  appear,  it  is  not  altogether  an 
uncommon  one:  nay,  with  some  small  alterations,  and 
put  a  little  lower,  it  is  applicable  to  a  very  considerable 
part  of  the  world.  For  if  the  reasonable  choice  be  seen 
and  acknowledged,  and  yet  men  make  the  unreasonable 
one,  is  not  this  the  same  contradiction;  that  very  incon- 
sistency, which  appeared  so  unaccountable? 

To  give  some  little  openini;  to  such  characters  and 
behaviour,  it  is  to  be  observed  in  general,  that  there  is 
no  account  to  be  given  in  the  way  of  reason,  of  men's  sa 


88  UPON  THE  CHARACTER  .  [Ser,  Vlf  • 

strong  attachments  to  the  present  world:  our  hopes  and 
fears  and  pursuits  are  in  degrees  beyond  all  proportion 
to  the  known  value  of  the  things  they  respect.  This 
may  be  said  without  taking  into  consideration  religion 
and  a  future  state;  and  when  these  are  considered,  the 
disproportion  is  infinitely  heightened.  Now  when  men 
go  against  their  reason,  and  contradict  a  more  important 
interest  at  a  distance,  for  one  nearer,  though  of  less  con- 
sideration; if  this  be  the  whole  of  the  case,  all  that  can 
be  said  is,  that  strong  passions,  some  kind  of  brute  force 
within,  prevails  over  the  principle  of  rationality.  How- 
ever, if  this  be  with  a  clear,  full,  and  distinct  view  of  the 
truth  of  things,  then  it  is  doing  the  utmost  violence  to 
themselves,  acting  in  the  most  palpable  contradiction  to 
their  very  nature.  But  if  there  be  any  such  thing  in 
mankind  as  putting  half-deceits  upon  themselves ;  which 
there  plainly  is,  either  by  avoiding  reflection,  or  (if  they 
do  reflect)  by  religious  equivocation,  subterfuges,  and 
palliating  matters  to  themselves ;  by  these  means  con- 
science may  be  laid  asleep,  and  they  may  go  on  in  a 
course  of  wickedness  with  less  disturbance.  All  the 
various  turns,  doubles,  and  intricacies  in  a  dishonest 
heart,  cannot  be  unfolded  or  laid  open;  but  that  there  is 
somewhat  of  that  kind  is  manifest,  be  it  to  be  called  self- 
deceit,  or  by  any  other  name.  Balaam  had  before  his 
eyes  the  authority  of  God,  absolutely  forbidding  him 
what  he,  for  the  sake  of  a  reward,  had  the  strongest  in- 
clination to :  he  was  likewise  in  a  state  of  mind  sober 
enough  to  consider  death  and  his  last  end:  by  these 
considerations  he  was  restrained,  first  from  going  to  the 
king  of  Moab;  and  after  he  did  go,  from  cursing  Israel. 
But  notwithstanding  this,  there  was  great  wickedness  in 
his  heart.  He  could  not  forego  the  rewards  of  unright- 
eousness: he  therefore  first  seeks  for  indulgences ;  and 
when  these  could  not  be  obtained,  he  sins  against  the 
whole  meaning,  end,  and  design  of  the  prohibition, 
which  no  consideration  in  the  world  could  prevail  with 
him  to  go  against  the  letter  of.  And  surely  that  impious 
counsel  he  gave  to  Balak  against  the  children  of  Israel, 
was,  considered  in  itself,  a  greater  piece  of  wickedness, 
than  if  he  had  cursed  them  in  words. 


Sbiu  VII.J  of  BALAAM.  89 

If  it  be  inquired  what  his  situation,  his  hopes,  and  fears 
were,  in  respect  to  this  his  wish;  the  answer  must  be, 
that  consciousness  of  the  wickedness  of  his  heart  must 
necessarily  have  destroyed  all  settled  hopes  of  dying  the 
death  of  the  righteous:  he  could  have  no  calm  satisfaction 
in  this  view  of  his  last  end:  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is 
possible  that  those  partial  regards  to  his  duty,  now  men- 
tioned, might  keep  him  from  perfect  despair. 

Upon  the  whole,  it  is  manifest,  that  13alaam  had  the 
most  just  and  true  notions  of  God  and  religion;  as  ap- 
pears, partly  from  the  original  story  itself,  and  more 
plainly  from  the  passage  in  Micah;  where  he  explains 
rehgion  to  consist  in  real  virtue  and  real  piety,  expressly 
distinguished  from  superstition,  and  in  terms  which  most 
strongly  exclude  dishonesty  and  falseness  of  heart.  Yet 
you  see  his  behaviour:  he  seeks  indulgences  for  plain 
wickedness;  which  not  being  able  to  obtain,  he  glosses 
over  the  same  wickedness,  dresses  it  up  in  a  new  form, 
in  order  to  make  it  pass  off  more  easily  with  himself. 
That  is,  he  deliberately  contrives  to  deceive  and  impose 
upon  himself,  in  a  matter  which  he  knew  to  be  of  the 
utmost  importance. 

To  bring  these  observations  home  to  ourselves:  it  is 
too  evident,  that  many  persons  allow  themselves  in  very 
unjustifiable  courses,  who  yet  make  great  pretences  to 
religion ;  not  to  deceive  the  world,  none  can  be  so  weak 
as  to  think  this  will  pass  in  our  age ;  but  from  principles, 
hopes,  and  fears,  respecting  God  and  a  future  state;  and 
go  on  thus  with  a  sort  of  tranquillity  and  quiet  of  mind. 
This  cannot  be  upon  a  thorough  consideration,  and  full 
resolution,  that  the  pleasures  and  advantages  they  pro- 
pose are  to  be  pursued  at  all  hazards,  against  reason, 
against  the  law  of  God,  and  though  everlasting  destruc- 
tion is  to  be  the  consequence.  This  would  be  doing  too 
great  violence  upon  themselves.  No,  they  are  for  mak- 
ing a  composition  with  the  Almighty.  These  of  his 
commands  they  will  obey:  but  as  to  others — why  they 
will  make  all  the  atonements  in  their  pow(T;  the  ambi- 
tious, the  covetous,  the  dissolute  man,  each  in  a  way 
which  shall  not  contradict  his  respective  pursuit.  In- 
dulgences before,  which  was  Balaam's  first  attempt, 


90  UPON  THE  CHARACTER  [Skr.  VH. 

though  he  was  not  so  successful  in  it  as  to  deceive  him- 
self, or  atonements  afterwards,  are  all  the  same.  And 
here  perhaps  come  in  faint  hopes  that  they  may,  and 
half-resolves  that  they  will,  one  time  or  other,  make 
a  change. 

Besides  these,  there  are  also  persons,  who,  from  a 
more  just  way  of  considering  things,  see  the  infinite 
absurdity  of  this,  of  substituting  sacrifice  instead  of 
obedience;  there  are  persons  far  enough  from  supersti- 
tion, and  not  without  some  real  sense  of  God  and 
religion  upon  their  minds;  who  yet  are  guilty  of  most 
unjustifiable  practices,  and  go  on  with  great  coolness  and 
command  over  themselves.  The  same  dishonesty  and 
unsoundness  of  heart  discovers  itself  in  these  another 
way.  In  all  common  ordinary  cases  we  see  intuitively 
at  first  view  what  is  our  duty,  what  is  the  honest  part. 
This  is  the  ground  of  the  observation,  that  the  first 
thought  is  often  the  best.  In  these  cases  doubt  and 
deliberation  is  itself  dishonesty;  as  it  was  in  Balaam 
upon  the  second  message.  That  which  is  called  con- 
sidering what  is  our  duty  in  a  particular  case,  is  very 
often  nothing  but  endeavouring  to  explain  it  away. 
Thus  those  courses,  which,  if  men  would  fairly  attend  to 
the  dictates  of  their  own  consciences,  they  would  see  to 
be  corruption,  excess,  oppression,  un charitableness ; 
these  are  refined  upon — things  were  so  and  so  circum- 
stantiated —  great  difficulties  are  raised  about  fixing 
bounds  and  degrees:  and  thus  every  moral  obHgation 
whatever  may  be  evaded.  Here  is  scope,  I  say,  for  an 
unfair  mind  to  explain  away  every  moral  obligation  to 
itself.  Whether  men  reflect  again  upon  this  internal 
management  and  artifice,  and  how  explicit  they  are  with 
themselves,  is  another  question.  There  are  many  oper- 
ations of  the  mind,  many  things  pass  within,  which  we 
never  reflect  upon  again ;  which  a  bystander,  from  hav- 
ing frequent  opportunities  of  observing  us  and  our  con- 
duct, may  make  shrewd  guesses  at. 

That  great  numbers  are  in  this  way  of  deceiving  them- 
selves is  certain.  There  is  scarce  a  man  in  the  world, 
who  has  entirely  got  over  all  regards,  hopes,  and  fears, 
concerning  God  and  a  future  state ;  and  these  apprehen- 


SiB.  Vn.]  OF  BALAAM.  W 

sioiis  in  the  generality,  bad  as  we  are,  prevail  in  con- 
siderable degrees  :  yet  men  will  and  can  be  wicked,  with 
calmness  and  thought ;  we  see  they  are.  There  must 
therefore  be  some  method  of  .tnaking  it  sit  a  little  easy 
upon  their  minds ;  which,  in  the  superstitious,  is  those 
indulgences  and  atonements  before  mentioned,  and  this 
self-deceit  of  another  kind  in  persons  of  another  charac- 
ter. And  both  these  proceed  from  a  certain  unfairness 
of  mind,  a  peculiar  inward  dishonesty;  tlie  direct  con- 
trary to  that  simplicity  which  our  Saviour  recommends, 
under  the  notion  of  becoming  little  children,  as  a  neces- 
sary qualification  for  our  entering  into  the  kingdom  of 
heaven. 

But  to  conclude:  How  much  soever  men  differ  in  the 
course  of  life  they  prefer,  and  in  their  ways  of  palliating 
and  excusing  their  vices  to  themselves;  yet  all  agree  in 
the  one  thing,  desiring  to  die  the  death  of  the  righteous. 
This  is  surely  remarkable.  The  observation  may  be  ex- 
tended further,  and  put  thus:  Even  without  determining 
what  that  is  which  we  call  guilt  or  innocence,  there  is  no 
man  but  would  choose,  after  having  had  the  pleasure  or 
advantage  of  a  vicious  action,  to  be  free  of  the  guilt  of 
it,  to  be  in  the  state  of  an  innocent  man.  This  shows  at 
least  the  disturbance  and  implicit  dissatisfaction  in  vice. 
If  we  inquire  into  the  grounds  of  it,  we  shall  find  it  pro- 
ceeds partly  from  an  immediate  sense  of  having  done 
evil,  and  partly  from  an  apprehension,  that  this  inward 
sense  shall  one  time  or  another  be  seconded  by  a  higher 
judgment,  upon  which  our  whole  being  depends.  Now 
to  suspend  and  drown  this  sense,  and  these  apprehen- 
sions, be  it  by  the  hurry  of  business  or  of  pleasure,  or  by 
superstition,  or  moral  equivocations,  this  is  in  a  manner 
one  and  the  same,  and  makes  no  alteration  at  all  in  the 
nature  of  our  case.  Things  and  actions  arc  what  they 
are,  and  the  consequences  of  them  will  be  what  they  will 
be:  why  then  should  we  desire  to  be  deceived?  As  we 
are  reasonable  creatures,  and  have  any  regard  to  our- 
selves, we  ought  to  lay  these  things  plainly  and  honestly 
before  our  mind,  and  upon  this,  act  as  you  plcnse,  as  you 
think  most  fit ;  make  that  choice,  and  prefer  that  course 
of  life,  which  you  can  justify  to  yourselves,  and  which 


UPON  RESENTMENT.  [Ser.  VIII. 

sits  more  easy  upon  your  own  mind.  It  will  immedi- 
ately appear,  that  vice  cannot  be  the  happiness,  but  must 
upon  the  whole  be  the  misery,  of  such  a  creature  as  man; 
a  moral,  an  accountabk  agent.  Superstitious  obser- 
vances, self-deceit,  though  of  a  more  refined  sort,  will 
not  in  reality  at  all  mend  matters  with  us.  And  the  re- 
sult of  the  whole  can  be  nothing  else,  but  that  with  sim- 
plicity and  fairness  we  keep  innocency,  and  take  heed  unto 
the  thing  that  is  right ;  for  this  alone  shall  bring  a  man 
peace  at  the  last. 


SERMON  VIII. 

UPON  RESENTMENT. 

Ye  have  heard  that  it  hath  been  said,  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour^ 
and  hate  thine  enemy :  but  I  say  unto  you.  Love  your  enemies^ 
bless  them  thai  curse  you,  do  good  to  them  that  hate  you,  arid  pray 
for  them  which  despitefully  use  you  and  persecute  you, — Matth.  v. 
43,  44. 

Since  perfect  goodness  in  the  Deity  is  the  principle 
from  whenoe  the  universe  was  brought  into  being,  and 
by  which  it  is  preserved;  and  since  general  benevolence 
is  the  great  law  of  the  whole  moral  creation ;  it  is  a 
question  which  immediately  occurs.  Why  had  man  im- 
planted in  him  a  principle,  which  appears  the  direct  con- 
trary  to  benevolence  ?  Now  the  foot  upon  which  inquiries 
of  this  kind  should  be  treated  is  this  :  to  take  human  na- 
ture as  it  is,  and  the  circumstances  in  which  it  is  placed 
as  they  are ;  and  then  consider  the  correspondence  be- 
tween that  nature  and  those  circumstances,  or  what 
course  of  action  and  behaviour,  respecting  those  circum- 
stances, any  particular  affection  or  passion  leads  us  tOo 
This  I  mention  to  distinguish  the  matter  now  before  us 
from  disquisitions  of  quite  another  kind;  namely.  Why 
we  are  not  made  more  perfect  creatures,  or  placed  in  better 
circumstances  ?  these  being  questions  which  we  have 
not,  that  I  know  of,  any  thing  at  all  to  do  with.  God 
Ahnighty  undoubtedly  foresaw  the  disorders,  both  natural 


Sa.  viii.]  upon  resentment.  93 

and  moral,  which  would  happen  in  this  state  of  things. 
If  upon  this  we  set  ourselves  to  search  and  examine  why 
he  did  not  prevent  them ;  we  shall,  I  am  afraid,  be  in 
danger  of  running  into  somewhat  worse  than  impertinent 
curiosity.  But  upon  this  to  examine  how  far  the  nature 
which  he  hath  given  us  hath  a  respect  to  those  circum- 
stances, such  as  they  are  ;  how  far  it  leads  us  to  act  a 
proper  part  in  them ;  plainly  belongs  to  us :  and  such 
inquiries  are  in  many  ways  of  excellent  use.  Thus  the 
thing  to  be  considered  is,  not,  Why  we  were  not  made  of 
such  a  nature,  and  placed  in  such  circumstances,  as  to  have 
no  need  of  so  harsh  and  turbulent  a  passion  as  resentment  : 
but,  taking  our  nature  and  condition  as  being  what  they 
are,  Why,  or  for  what  end  such  a  passion  was  given  us  : 
and  this  chiefly  in  order  to  show  what  are  the  abuses  of  it. 

The  persons  who  laid  down  for  a  rule,  TIwu  shall  love 
thy  neighbour,  and  hate  thine  enemy,  made  short  work 
with  this  matter.  They  did  not,  it  seems,  perceive  any 
thing  to  be  disapproved  in  hatred,  more  than  in  good- 
will: and,  according  to  their  system  of  morals,  our  enemy 
was  the  proper  natural  object  of  one  of  these  passions,  as 
our  neighbour  was  of  the  other  of  them. 

This  was  all  they  had  to  say,  and  all  they  thought 
needful  to  be  said,  upon  the  subject.  But  this  cannot 
be  satisfactory  ;  because  hatred,  malice,  and  revenge,  are 
directly  contrary  to  the  rehgion  we  profess,  and  to  the 
nature  and  reason  of  the  thing  itself.  Therefore,  since 
no  passion  God  hath  endued  us  with  can  be  in  itself 
evil ;  and  yet  since  men  frequently  indulge  a  passion  in 
such  ways  and  degrees  that  at  length  it  becomes  quite 
another  thing  from  what  it  was  originally  in  our  nature; 
and  those  vices  of  malice  and  revenge  in  particular  take 
their  occasion  from  the  natural  passion  of  resentment: 
it  will  be  needful  to  trace  this  up  to  its  original,  that  we 
may  see  what  it  is  in  itself  as  placed  in  our  nature  by  its 
A  uthor  ;  from  which  it  will  plainly  appear,  yor  ichaf  ends 
it  was  placed  there.  And  when  we  know  what  the  pas- 
sion is  in  itself,  and  the  ends  of  it,  we  shall  easily  sec, 
what  are  the  abuses  of  it,  in  which  malice  and  revenge  con- 
sist :  and  which  are  so  strongly  forbidden  in  the  text,  by 
the  direct  contrary  being  commanded. 


94 


UPON  RESENTMENT. 


[Seb.  VUL 


Resentment  is  of  two  kinds  :  hasty  and  sudden,  or 
settled  and  deliberate.  The  former  is  called  anger,  and 
>  often  passion;  which,  though  a  general  word,  is  fre- 
quently appropriated  and  confined  to  the  particular  feel- 
ing, sudden  anger,  as  distinct  from  deliberate  resentment, 
malice,  and  revenge.  In  all  these  words  is  usually  im- 
plied somewhat  vicious;  somewhat  unreasonable  as  to 
the  occasion  of  the  passion,  or  immoderate  as  to  the  de- 
gree or  duration  of  it.  But  that  the  natural  passion  itself 
is  indifferent,  St  Paul  has  asserted  in  that  precept,  Be  ye 
angry,  and  sin  not:*  which  though  it  is  by  no  means  to 
be  understood  as  an  encouragement  to  indulge  ourselves 
in  anger,  the  sense  being  certainly  this.  Though  ye  be  angry, 
sin  not;  yet  here  is  evidently  a  distinction  made  between 
anger  and  sin;  between  the  natural  passion,  and  sinful  anger. 

Sudden  anger,  upon  certain  occasions,  is  mere  instinct  : 
as  merely  so,  as  the  disposition  to  close  our  eyes  upon 
the  apprehension  of  somewhat  falling  into  them  ;  and  no 
more  necessarily  implies  any  degree  of  reason.    I  say, 
necessarily :  for  to  be  sure  hasty,  as  well  as  deliberate, 
anger  may  be  occasioned  by  injury  or  contempt ;  in  which 
cases  reason  suggests  to  our  thoughts  that  injury  and  con- 
tempt, which  is  the  occasion  of  the  passion :  but  I  am 
speaking  of  the  former  only  so  far  as  it  is  to  be  distinguish- 
ed from  the  latter.  The  only  way  in  which  our  reason  and 
understanding  can  raise  anger,  is  by  representing  to  our 
mind  injustice  or  injury  of  some  kind  or  other.  Now  mo- 
mentary anger  is  frequently  raised,  not  only  without  any 
real,  but  without  any  apparent  reason  ;  that  is,  without 
any  appearance  of  injury,  as  distinct  from  hurt  or  pain. 
It  cannot,  I  suppose,  be  tho:.ght,  that  this  passion  in 
infants  ;  in  the  lower  species  of  animals  ;  and,  which  is 
often  seen,  in  men  towards  them ;  it  cannot,  I  say,  be 
imagined,  that  these  instances  of  this  passion  are  the 
effect  of  reason  :  no,  they  are  occasioned  by  mere  sensa- 
tion and  feeling.  It  is  opposition,  sudden  hurt,  violence, 
which  naturally  excites  the  passion  ;  and  the  real  demerit 
or  fault  of  him  who  offers  that  violence,  or  is  the  cause  of 
that  opposition  or  hurt,  does  not,  in  many  cases,  so  much 
as  come  into  thought. 

*  Ephes.  iv.  2Q  \ 


Sn.  VIII.]  UPON  RESENTMENT.  95 

The  reason  and  end,  for  which  man  was  made  thus 
liable  to  this  passion,  is,  that  he  might  be  better  qualified 
to  prevent,  and  likewise  (or  perhaps  chiefly)  to  resist 
and  defeat,  sudden  force,  violence,  and  opposition,  con- 
sidered merely  as  such,  and  without  regard  to  the  fault 
or  demerit  of  him  who  is  the  author  of  them.  Yet,  since 
violence  may  be  considered  in  this  other  and  further 
view,  as  implying  fault;  and  since  injury,  as  distinct  from 
harm,  may  raise  sudden  anger;  sudden  anger  may  like- 
wise accidentally  serve  to  prevent,  or  remedy,  such  fault 
and  injury.  But,  considered  as  distinct  from  settled 
anger,  it  stands  in  our  nature  for  self-defence,  and  not 
for  the  administration  of  justice.  There  are  plainly 
cases,  and  in  the  uncultivated  parts  of  the  world,  and, 
where  regular  governments  are  not  formed,  they  fre- 
quently happen,  in  which  there  is  no  time  for  consider- 
ation, and  yet  to  be  passive  is  certain  destruction;  in 
which  sudden  resistance  is  the  only  security. 

But  from  thisj  deliberate  anger  or  resentment  is  essen- 
tially distinguished,  as  the  latter  is  not  naturally  excited 
by,  or  intended  to  prevent  mere  harm  without  appearance 
of  wrong  or  injustice.  Now,  in  order  to  see,  as  exactly 
as  we  can,  what  is  the  natural  object  and  occasion  of 
such  resentment;  let  us  reflect  upon  the  manner  in 
which  we  are  touched  with  reading,  suppose,  a  feigned 
story  of  baseness  and  villany,  properly  worked  up  to 
move  our  passions.  This  immediately  raises  indignation, 
somewhat  of  a  desire  that  it  should  be  punished.  And 
though  the  designed  injury  be  prevented,  yet  that  it  was 
designed  is  sufficient  to  raise  this  inward  feeling.  Sup- 
pose the  story  true,  this  inward  feeling  would  be  as 
natural  and  as  just:  and  one  may  venture  to  affirm,  that 
there  is  scarce  a  man  in  the  world,  but  would  have  it 
upon  some  occasions.  It  seems  in  us  plainly  connected 
with  a  sense  of  virtue  and  vice,  of  moral  good  and  evil. 
Suppose  further,  we  knew  both  the  person  who  did  and 
who  suffered  the  injury:  neither  would  this  make  any 
alteration,  only  that  it  would  probably  afl*ert  us  more. 
The  indignation  raised  by  cruelty  and  injustice,  and  the 
desire  of  having  it  punished,  which  persons  unconcerned 
would  feel,  is  by  no  means  malice.    No,  it  is  resentment 


96  UPON  RESENTMENT.  [Ser.  nil. 

against  vice  and  wickedness :  it  is  one  of  the  common 
bonds,  by  which  society  is  held  together ;  a  fellow  feeling, 
which  each  individual  has  in  behalf  of  the  whole  species, 
as  well  as  of  himself.  And  it  does  not  appear  that  this, 
generally  speaking,  is  at  all  too  high  amongst  mankind. 
Suppose  now  the  injury  I  have  been  speaking  of  to  be 
done  against  ourselves;  or  those  whom  we  consider  as 
ourselves.  It  is  plain,  the  way  in  which  we  should  be 
affected  would  be  exactly  the  same  in  kind :  but  it  would 
certainly  be  in  a  higher  degree,  and  less  transient;  be- 
cause a  sense  of  our  own  happiness  and  misery  is  most 
intimately  and  always  present  to  us;  and  from  the  very 
constitution  of  our  nature,  we  cannot  but  have  a  greater 
sensibility  to,  and  be  more  deeply  interested  in,  what 
concerns  ourselves.  And  this  seems  to  be  the  whole  of 
this  passion,  which  is,  properly  speaking,  natural  to 
mankind:  namely,  a  resentment  against  injury  and 
wickedness  in  general;  and  in  a  higher  degree  when 
towards  ourselves,  in  proportion  to  the  greater  regard 
which  men  naturally  ha?e  for  themselves,  than  for 
others.  From  hence  it  appears,  that  it  is  not  natural, 
but  moral  evil;  it  is  not  suffering,  but  injury,  wliich 
raises  that  anger  or  resentment,  Avhich  is  of  any  con- 
tinuance. The  natural  object  of  it  is  not  one,  who 
appears  to  the  suffering  person  to  have  been  only  the 
innocent  occasion  of  his  pain  or  loss;  but  one,  who  has 
been  in  a  moral  sense  injurious  either  to  ourselves  or 
others.  This  is  abundantly  confirmed  by  observing  what 
it  is  which  heightens  or  lessens  resentment;  namely,  the 
same  which  aggravates  or  lessens  the  fault:  friendship, 
and  former  obhgations,  on  one  hand;  or  inadvertency, 
strong  temptations,  and  mistake,  on  the  other.  All  this 
is  so  much  understood  by  mankind,  how  little  soever  it 
be  reflected  upon,  that  a  person  would  be  reckoned 
quite  distracted,  who  should  coolly  resent  a  harm,  which 
had  not  to  himself  the  appearance  of  injury  or  wrong. 
Men  do  indeed  resent  what  is  occasioned  through  care- 
lessness: but  then  they  expect  observance  as  their  due, 
and  so  that  carelessness  is  considered  as  faulty.  It  is 
likewise  true,  that  they  resent  more  strongly  an  injury 
done,  than  one  which,  though  designed,  was  prevented, 


Ser.  VIII.]  UPON  RESENTMENT.  97 

in  cases  where  the  guilt  is  perhaps  the  same:  the  reason 
however  is,  not  that  bare  pain  or  loss  raises  resentment, 
but,  that  it  gives  a  new,  and,  as  I  may  speak,  additional 
sense  of  the  injury  or  injustice.  According  to  the  natural 
course  of  the  passions,  the  degrees  of  resentment  are  in 
proportion,  not  only  to  the  degree  of  design  and  delibera- 
tion in  the  injurious  person;  but  in  proportion  to  this, 
joined  with  the  degree  of  the  evil  designed  or  premedi- 
tated; since  this  likewise  comes  in  to  make  the  injustice 
greater  or  less.  And  the  evil  or  harm  will  appear  greater 
when  they  feel  it,  than  when  they  only  reflect  upon  it:  so 
therefore  will  the  injury:  and  consequently  the  resent- 
ment will  be  greater. 

The  natural  object  or  occasion  of  settled  resentment 
then  being  injury,  as  distinct  from  pain  or  loss  ;  it  is  easy 
to  see,  that  to  prevent  and  to  remedy  such  injury,  and  the 
miseries  arising  from  it,  is  the  end  for  which  this  passion 
was  implanted  in  man.  It  is  to  be  considered  as  a 
weapon,  put  into  our  hands  by  nature,  against  injury, 
injustice,  and  cruelty :  how  it  may  be  innocently  em- 
ployed and  made  use  of,  shall  presently  be  mentioned. 

The  account  which  has  been  now  given  of  this  passion 
is,  in  brief,  that  sudden  anger  is  raised  by,  and  w^as 
chiefly  intended  to  prevent  or  remedy,  mere  harm  distinct 
from  injury ;  but  that  it  may  be  raised  by  injur)- ,  and  mai/ 
serve  to  prevent  or  to  remedy  it;  and  then  the  occasions 
and  eff*ects  of  it  are  the  same  with  the  occasions  and 
effects  of  deliberate  anger.  But  they  are  essentially  dis- 
tinguished in  this,  that  the  latter  is  never  occasioned  by 
harm,  distinct  from  injury;  and  its  natural  proper  end  is 
to  remedy  or  prevent  only  that  harm,  which  implies,  or 
is  supposed  to  imply,  injury  or  moral  wrong.  Every 
one  sees  that  these  observations  do  not  relate  to  those, 
who  have  habitually  suppressed  the  course  of  their 
passions  and  affections,  out  of  regard  cither  to  interest 
or  virtue;  or  who,  from  habits  of  vice  and  folly,  have 
changed  their  nature.  But,  I  suppose,  there  can  be  no 
doubt  but  this,  now  described,  is  the  general  course  of 
res(  ntment,  considered  as  a  natural  passion,  neither  in- 
creased by  indulgence,  nor  corrected  by  virtue,  nor  pre- 
vailed over  by  otlicr  passions,  or  particular  habits  of  life, 

o 


98  UPON  RESENTMENT.  [Sfift.  TOt 

As  to  the  abuses  of  anger,  which  it  is  to  be  observed 
may  be  in  all  different  degrees,  the  first  which  occurs  is 
w^hat  is  commonly  called  passion;  to  which  some  men 
are  liable,  in  the  same  way  as  others  are  to  the  epilepsy , 
or  any  sudden  particular  disorder.  This  distemper  ol 
the  mind  seizes  them  upon  the  least  occasion  in  the 
world,  and  perpetually  without  any  real  reason  at  all: 
and  by  means  of  it  they  are  plainly,  every  day,  every 
waking  hour  of  their  lives,  liable  and  in  danger  of  run- 
ning into  the  most  extravagant  outrages.  Of  a  less 
boisterous,  but  not  of  a  less  innocent  kind,  is  peevishness ; 
which  I  mention  with  pity,  with  real  pity  to  the  unhappy 
creatures,  who,  from  their  inferior  station,  or  other  cir- 
cumstances and  relations,  are  obliged  to  be  in  the  way 
of,  and  to  serve  for  a  supply  to  it.  Both  these,  for  ought 
that  I  can  see,  are  one  and  the  same  principle :  but  as  it 
take^  root  in  minds  of  different  makes,  it  appears  dif- 
ferently, and  so  is  come  to  be  distinguished  by  different 
names.  That  which  in  a  more  feeble  temper  is  peevish- 
ness, and  languidly  discharges  itself  upon  ever}''  thing 
which  comes  in  its  way;  the  same  principle  in  a  temper 
of  greater  force  and  stronger  passions,  becomes  rage  and 
fury.  In  one,  the  humour  discharges  itself  at  once;  in 
the  other,  it  is  continually  discharging.  This  is  the 
account  of  passion  and  peevishness,  as  distinct  from  each 
other,  and  appearing  in  different  persons.  It  is  no  ob- 
jection against  the  truth  of  it,  that  they  are  both  to  be 
seen  sometimes  in  one  and  the  same  person. 

With  respect  to  deliberate  resentment,  the  chief  in- 
stances of  abuse  are:  when,  from  partiality  to  ourselves, 
we  imagine  an  injury  done  us,  when  there  is  none:  when 
this  partiality  represents  it  to  us  greater  than  it  really  is : 
when  we  fall  into  that  extravagant  and  monstrous  kind 
of  resentment,  towards  one  who  has  innocently  been  the 
occasion  of  evil  to  us ;  that  is,  resentment  upon  account 
of  pain  or  inconvenience,  without  injury ;  which  is  the 
same  absurdity,  as  settled  anger  at  a  thing  that  is 
inanimate :  when  the  indignation  against  injury  and 
injustice  rises  too  high,  and  is  beyond  proportion  to  the 
particular  ill  action  it  is  exercised  upon :  or,  lastly,  when 
pain  or  harm  of  any  kind  is  inflicted  merely  in  conse- 


Sia.Vin.]  UPON  RESENTMENT.  99 

quence  of,  and  to  gratify,  that  resentment,  though  na- 
turally raised. 

It  would  be  endless  to  descend  into  and  explain  all  the 
peculiarities  of  perverseness  and  wayward  humour  which 
might  be  traced  up  to  this  passion.  But  there  is  one 
thing,  which  so  generally  belongs  to  and  accompanies  all 
excess  and  abuse  of  it,  as  to  require  being  mentioned: 
a  certain  determination,  and  resolute  bent  of  mind  not 
to  be  convinced  or  set  right;  though  it  be  ever  so  plain, 
that  there  is  no  reason  for  the  displeasure,  that  it  was 
raised  merely  by  error  or  misunderstanding.  In  this 
there  is  doubtless  a  great  mixture  of  pride;  but  there  is 
somewhat  more,  which  I  cannot  otherwise  express,  than 
that  resentment  has  taken  possession  of  the  temper  and 
of  the  m^ind,  and  will  not  quit  its  hold.  It  would  be  too 
minute  to  inquire  whether  this  be  any  thing  more  than 
bare  obstinacy:  it  is  sufficient  to  observe,  that  it,  in  a 
very  particular  manner  and  degree,  belongs  to  the  abuses 
of  this  passion. 

But,  notwithstanding  all  these  abuses,  "Is  not  just  in- 
dignation against  cruelty  and  wrong  one  of  the  instru- 
meiits  of  deatli,  which  the  Author  of  our  nature  hath  pro- 
vided.^ Are  not  cruelty,  injustice,  and  wrong,  the 
natural  objects  of  that  indignation?  Surely  then  it  may 
one  way  or  other  be  innocently  employed  against  them." 
True.  Since  therefore  it  is  necessary  for  the  very  sub- 
sistence of  the  world,  that  injury,  injustice,  and  cruelty, 
should  be  punished;  and  since  compassion,  which  is  so 
natural  to  mankind,  would  render  that  execution  of  jus- 
tice exceedingly  difficult  and  uneasy;  indignation  against 
vice  and  wickedness  is,  and  may  be  allowed  to  be,  a 
balance  to  that  weakness  of  pity,  and  also  to  any  thing 
else  which  would  prevent  the  necessary  methods  of  seve- 
rity. Those  who  have  never  thought  upon  these  sub- 
jects, may  perhaps  not  see  the  weight  of  this:  but  let  us 
suppose  a  person  guilty  of  murder,  or  any  other  action 
of  cruelty,  and  that  mankind  Rad  naturally  no  indigna- 
tion against  such  wickedness  and  the  authors  of  it;  but 
that  every  body  was  affected  towards  such  a  criminal  in 
the  same  way  as  towards  an  innocent  man:  compassion, 
amongst  other  tilings,  would  render  the  execution  of  jus- 

G  2 


100  UPON  RESENTMENT.  [Seb.  VIH. 

tice  exceedingly  painful  and  difficult,  and  would  often 
quite  prevent  it.  And  notwithstanding  that  the  principle 
of  benevolence  is  denied  by  some  and  is  really  in  a  very 
low  degree,  that  men  are  in  great  measure  insensible  to 
the  happiness  of  their  fellow  creatures;  yet  they  are  not 
insensible  to  their  misery,  but  are  very  strongly  moved 
with  it:  insomuch  that  there  plainly  is  occasion  for  that 
feeling,  which  is  raised  by  guilt  and  demerit,  as  a  balance 
to  that  of  compassion.  Thus  much  may,  I  think,  justly 
be  allowed  to  resentment,  in  the  strictest  way  of  moral 
consideration. 

The  good  influence  which  this  passion  has  in  fact 
upon  the  affairs  of  the  world,  is  obvious  to  every  one's 
notice.  Men  are  plainly  restrained  from  injuring  their 
fellow  creatures  by  fear  of  their  resentment;  and  it  is 
very  happy  that  they  are  so,  when  they  would  not  be 
restrained  by  a  principle  of  virtue.  And  after  an  injury 
is  done,  and  there  is  a  necessity  that  the  off'ender  should 
be  brought  to  justice;  the  cool  consideration  of  reason, 
that  the  security  and  peace  of  society  requires  examples 
of  justice  should  be  made,  might  indeed  be  sufficient  to 
procure  laws  to  be  enacted,  and  sentence  passed:  but  is 
it  that  cool  reflection  in  the  injured  person,  which,  for 
the  most  part,  brings  the  ofl'ender  to  justice?  Or  is  it 
not  resentment  and  indignation  against  the  injury  and 
the  author  of  it.^^  I  am  afraid  there  is  no  doubt,  which 
is  commonly  the  case.  This  however  is  to  be  considered 
as  a  good  effect,  notwithstanding  it  were  much  to  be 
wished  that  men  would  act  from  a  better  principle,  reason 
and  cool  reflection. 

The  account  now  given  of  the  passion  of  resentment, 
as  distinct  from  all  the  abuses  of  it,  may  suggest  to  our 
thoughts  the  following  reflections. 

First,  That  vice  is  indeed  of  ill  desert,  and  must  finally 
be  punished.  Why  should  men  dispute  concerning  the 
reality  of  virtue,  and  whether  it  be  founded  in  the  nature 
of  things,  which  yet  sufely  is  not  matter  of  question; 
but  why  should  this,  I  say,  be  disputed,  when  every  man 
carries  about  him  this  passion,  which  afl'ords  him  de- 
monstration, that  the  rules  of  justice  and  equity  are  to 
be  the  guide  of  his  actions  ?    For  every  man  naturally 


fta,  rX.J  UPON  FORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES.  101 

feels  an  indignation  upon  seeing  instances  of  ^^^anv  and 
baseness,  and  therefore  cannot  commit  the  same  without 
being  self-condemned. 

Secondly,  That  we  should  learn  to  be  cautious,  lest  we 
charge  God  foolishly,  by  ascribing  that  to  him,  or  the 
nature  he  has  given  us,  which  is  owing  wholly  to  our 
own  abuse  of  it.  Men  may  speak  of  the  degeneracy  and 
corruption  of  the  world,  according  to  tlie  experience  they 
have  had  of  it;  but  human  nature,  considered  as  the  di- 
vine workmanship,  should  m.ethinks  be  treated  as  sacred: 
for  in  the  image  of  God  made  he  man.  That  passion, 
from  whence  men  take  occasion  to  run  into  the  dreadful 
vices  of  malice  and  revenge;  even  that  passion,  as  im- 
planted in  our  nature  by  God,  is  not  only  innocent,  but 
a  generous  movement  of  mind.  It  is  in  itself,  and  in  its 
original,  no  more  than  indignation  against  injury  and 
wickedness:  that  which  is  the  only  deformity  in  the  crea- 
tion, and  the  only  reasonable  object  of  abhorrence  and 
dislike.  How  manifold  evidence  have  we  of  the  divine 
wisdom  and  goodness,  when  even  pain  in  the  natural 
world,  and  the  passion  we  have  been  now  considering  in 
the  moral,  come  out  instances  of  it! 


SERMON  IX. 

UPON  FORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES, 

Ye  have  heard  that  it  hath  been  said,  T7iou  shalt  love  tJiy  neigh  bow  ^ 
and  hate  thine  enemy :  but  I  say  unto  you.  Love  your  enemies,  bless 
them  that  curse  you,  do  good  to  them  that  hate  you,  and  pray  for 
them  which  despitefully  use  you  and  persecute  you.  —  MutU  v 
43,  44. 

As  God  Almighty  foresaw  the  irregularities  and  disorders, 
both  natural  and  moral,  which  would  happen  in  this 
state  of  things;  he  hath  graciously  made  some  provision 
against  them,  by  giving  us  several  passions  and  aflfec- 
tions,  which  arise  from,  or  whose  objects  arp.  tliose 
disorders.  Of  this  sort  are  fear,  resentment,  compAssion, 
and  others;  of  which  there  could  be  no  occasion  or  use 


102  UPON  FORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES.  [Ser.  IX. 

in  a  perfect  state :  but  in  the  present  we  should  be  ex- 
posed to  greater  inconveniences  without  them;  though 
there  are  very  considerable  ones,  which  they  themselves 
are  the  occasions  of.  They  are  encumbrances  indeed, 
but  such  as  we  are  obliged  to  carry  about  with  us,  through 
this  various  journey  of  life:  some  of  them  as  a  guard 
against  the  violent  assaults  of  others,  and  in  our  own  de- 
fence; some  in  behalf  of  others;  and  all  of  them  to  put 
us  upon,  and  help  to  carry  us  through  a  course  of  beha- 
viour suitable  to  our  condition,  in  default  of  that  perfec- 
tion of  wisdom  and  virtue,  which  would  be  in  all  respects 
our  better  security. 

The  passion  of  anger  or  resentment  hath  already  been 
largely  treated  of.  It  hath  been  shown,  that  mankind 
naturally  feel  some  emotion  of  mind  against  injury  and 
injustice,  whoever  are  the  sufferers  by  it;  and  even 
though  the  injurious  design  be  prevented  from  taking 
effect.  Let  this  be  called  anger,  indignation,  resentment, 
or  by  whatever  name  any  one  shall  choose;  the  thing 
itself  is  understood,  and  is  plainly  natural.  It  has  like- 
wise been  observed,  that  this  natural  indignation  is  gene- 
rally moderate  and  low  enough  in  mankind,  in  each 
particular  man,  when  the  injury  which  excites  it  doth 
not  affect  himself,  or  one  whom  he  considers  as  himself. 
Therefore  the  precepts  to  forgive^  and  to  love  our  enemieSj 
do  not  relate  to  that  general  indignation  against  injury 
and  the  authors  of  it,  but  to  this  feeling,  or  resentment 
when  raised  by  private  or  personal  injury.  But  no  man 
could  be  thought  in  earnest,  who  should  assert,  that, 
though  indignation  against  injury,  when  others  are  the 
sufferers,  is  innocent  and  just;  yet  the  same  indignation 
against  it,  when  we  ourselves  are  the  sufferers,  becomes 
faulty  and  blameable.  These  precepts  therefore  cannot 
be  understood  to  forbid  this  in  the  latter  case,  more  than 
in  the  former.  Nay  they  cannot  be  understood  to  forbid 
this  feeling  in  the  latter  case,  though  raised  to  a  higher 
degree  than  in  the  former:  because,  as  was  also  observed 
further,  from  the  very  constitution  of  our  nature,  we  can- 
not but  have  a  greater  sensibility  to  what  concerns  our- 
selves. Therefore  the  precepts  in  the  text,  and  others 
of  the  like  import  with  them,  must  be  understood  to  for- 


So.  IX.]  UPON  FORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES.  103 

bid  only  the  excess  and  abuse  of  this  natural  feeling,  in 
cases  of  personal  and  private  injury:  the  chief  instances 
of  which  excess  and  abuse  have  likewise  been  already 
remarked;  and  all  of  them,  excepting  that  of  retaliation, 
do  so  plainly  in  the  very  terms  express  somewhat  un- 
reasonable, disproportionate,  and  absurd,  as  to  admit  of 
no  pretence  or  shadow  of  justification. 

But  since  custom  and  false  honour  are  on  the  side  of 
retahation  and  revenge,  when  the  resentment  is  natural 
and  just ;  and  reasons  are  sometimes  offered  in  justifica- 
tion of  revenge  in  these  cases;  and  since  love  of  our 
enemies  is  thought  too  hard  a  saying  to  be  obeyed;  I  will 
show  the  absolute  unlawfulness  of  the  former  ;  the  ohliga- 
Hons  ice  are  under  to  the  latter;  and  then  proceed  to  some 
refect  ions  J  which  may  have  a  more  direct  and  immediate 
tendency  to  heyet  in  us  a  right  temper  of  mind  towards 
those  who  have  offended  us. 

In  showing  the  unlawfulness  of  revenge,  it  is  not  my 
present  design  to  examine  what  is  alleged  in  favour  of  it, 
from  the  tyranny  of  custom  and  false  honour,  but  only 
to  consider  the  nature  and  reason  of  the  thing  itself; 
which  ought  to  have  prevented,  and  ought  now  to  extir- 
pate, every  thing  of  that  kind. 

First,  Let  us  begin  with  the  supposition  of  that  being 
innocent,  which  is  pleaded  for,  and  which  shall  be  shown 
to  be  altogether  vicious,  the  supposition  that  we  were 
allowed  to  render  evil  for  evily  and  see  what  would  be 
the  consequence.  Malice  or  resentment  towards  any 
man  hath  phiinly  a  tendency  to  beget  tlie  same  passion 
in  him  who  is  the  object  of  it;  and  this  again  increases 
it  in  the  other.  It  is  of  the  very  nature  of  this  vice  to 
propagate  itself,  not  only  by  way  of  example,  which  it 
does  in  common  with  other  vices,  but  in  a  peculiar  way 
of  its  own;  for  resentment  itself,  as  well  as  what  is  done 
in  consequence  of  it,  is  the  object  of  resentment:  hence 
it  comes  to  pass,  that  the  first  offence,  even  when  so 
slight  as  presently  to  be  dropped  and  forgotten,  becomes 
the  occasion  of  entering  into  a  long  intercoin*se  of  ill 
offices:  neither  is  it  at  all  uncommon  to  see  persons,  iu 
this  progress  of  strife  and  variance,  change  parts:  and 
Lim,  who  was  at  first  tlie  injured  person,  become  more 


104  UPON  FORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES.  ^Ser.  IX. 

injurious  and  blameable  than  the  aggressor.  Put  the  case 
then,  that  the  law  of  retahation  was  universally  received,, 
and  allowed,  as  an  innocent  rule  of  life,  by  all;  and  the 
observance  of  it  thought  by  many  (and  then  it  would 
soon  come  to  be  thought  by  all)  a  point  of  honour:  this 
supposes  every  man  in  private  cases  to  pass  sentence  in 
his  own  cause;  and  likewise,  that  anger  or  resentment 
is  to  be  the  judge.  Thus,  from  the  numberless  partia- 
lities which  we  all  have  for  ourselves,  every  one  would 
often  think  himself  injured  when  he  was  not:  and  in 
most  cases  would  represent  an  injury  as  much  greater 
than  it  really  is ;  tlie  imagined  dignity  of  the  person  of- 
fended would  scarce  ever  fail  to  magnify  the  offence. 
And,  if  bare  retaliation,  or  returning  just  the  mischief 
received,  always  begets  resentment  in  the  person  upon 
whom  we  retaliate,  what  would  that  excess  do  ?  Add  to 
this,  that  he  likewise  has  his  partialities — there  is  no 
going  on  to  represent  this  scene  of  rage  and  madness: 
it  is  manifest  there  would  be  no  bounds,  nor  any  end. 
If  the  beginning  of  strife  is  as  when  one  letteth  out  water ^ 
what  would  it  come  to  when  allowed  this  free  and  unre- 
strained course. As  coals  are  to  burning  coals,  or  wood 
to  fire  ;  so  would  these  contentious  men  be  to  kindle  strife. 
And,  since  the  indulgence  of  revenge  hath  manifestly 
this  tendency,  and  does  actually  produce  these  effects  in 
proportion  as  it  is  allowed;  a  passion  of  so  dangerous  a 
nature  ought  not  to  be  indulged,  were  there  no  other 
reason  against  it. 

Secondly,  It  hath  been  shown  that  the  passion  of  re- 
sentment was  placed  in  man,  upon  supposition  of,  and 
as  a  prevention  or  remedy  to,  irregularity  and  disorder. 
Now  whether  it  be  allowed  or  not,  that  the  passion  itself 
and  the  gratification  of  it  joined  together  are  painful  to 
the  malicious  person;  it  must  however  be  so  with  re- 
spect to  the  person  towards  Avhom  it  is  exercised,  and 
upon  whom  the  revenge  is  taken.  Now,  if  we  consider 
mankind,  according  to  that  fine  allusion  of  St  Paul, 
as  one  body,  and  every  one  members  one  of  another;  it 
must  be  allowed  that  resentment  is,  with  respect  to 
society,  a  painful  remedy.  Thus  then  the  very  notion 
or  idea  of  this  passion,  as  a  remedy  or  prevention  of  evil, 


Deb.  IX.]  UPON  FORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES.  105 

and  as  in  itself  a  painful  means,  plainly  shows  that  it 
ought  never  to  be  made  use  of,  but  only  in  order  to  pro- 
duce some  greater  good. 

It  is  to  be  observed,  that  this  argument  is  not  founded 
upon  an  allusion  or  simile  ;  but  that  it  is  drawn  from  the 
very  nature  of  the  passion  itself,  and  the  end  for  which 
it  was  given  us.  We  are  obliged  to  make  use  of  words 
taken  from  sensible  things,  to  explain  w^hat  is  the  most 
remote  from  them:  and  every  one  sees  from  whence  the 
words  Prevention  and  Remedy  are  taken.  But,  if  you 
please,  let  these  words  be  dropped :  the  thing  itself,  I 
suppose,  may  be  expressed  without  them. 

That  mankind  is  a  community,  that  we  all  stand  in  a 
relation  to  each  other,  that  there  is  a  public  end  and  in- 
terest of  society  which  each  particular  is  obliged  to  pro- 
mote, is  the  sum  of  morals.  Consider  then  the  passion 
of  resentment,  as  given  to  this  one  body,  as  given  to  so- 
ciety. Nothing  can  be  more  manifest,  than  that  resent- 
ment is  to  be  considered  as  a  secondary  passion,  placed 
in  us  upon  supposition,  upon  account  of,  and  with  regard 
to,  injury  ;  not,  to  be  sure,  to  promote  and  further  it,  but 
to  render  it,  and  the  inconveniences  and  miseries  arising 
from  it,  less  and  fewer  than  they  would  be  without  this 
passion.  It  is  as  manifest,  that  the  indulgence  of  it  is,  with 
regard  to  society,  a  painful  means  of  obtaining  these  ends. 
Considered  in  itself,  it  is  very  undesirable,  and  what  so- 
ciety must  very  much  wish  to  be  without.  It  is  in  every 
instance  absolutely  an  evil  in  itself,  because  it  implies  pro- 
ducing misery:  and  consequently  must  never  be  indulged 
or  gratified  for  itself,  by  any  one  who  considers  mankind 
as  a  community  or  family,  and  himself  as  a  member  of  it. 

Let  us  now  take  this  in  another  view.  Every  natural 
appetite,  passion,  and  affection,  may  be  gratified  in  par- 
ticular instances,  without  being  subservient  to  the  parti- 
cular chief  end,  for  which  these  several  principles  were 
respectively  implanted  in  our  nature.  And,  if  neither 
this  end,  nor  any  other  moral  obligation,  be  contradicted, 
such  gratification  is  innocent.  Thus,  I  suppose,  there 
are  cases  in  which  each  of  these  principles,  this  one  of 
resentment  excepted,  may  innocently  be  gratified,  with- 
out being  subservient  to  what  is  the  main  end  of  it :  that 


105  UPON  FORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES.  {Seb.  lY. 

is,  though  it  does  not  conduce  to,  yet  it  may  be  gratified 
without  contradicting,  that  end,  or  any  other  obhgation. 
But  the  gratification  of  resentment,  if  it  be  not  conducive 
to  the  end  for  which  it  was  given  us,  must  necessarily 
contradict,  not  only  the  general  obhgation  to  benevo- 
lence, but  hkewise  that  particular  end  itself.  The  end, 
for  which  it  was  given,  is  to  prevent  or  remedy  injury, 
i.  e.  the  misery  occasioned  by  injury  ;  u  e.  misery  itself; 
and  the  gratification  of  it  consists  in  producing  misery ; 
i.  e,  in  contradicting  the  end  for  which  it  was  implanted 
in  our  nature. 

This  whole  reasoning  is  built  upon  the  difference  there 
is  between  this  passion  and  all  others.  No  other  prin- 
ciple, or  passion,  hath  for  its  end  the  misery  of  our  fel- 
low creatures.  But  malice  and  revenge  meditates  evil 
itself ;  and  to  do  mischief,  to  be  the  author  of  misery, 
is  the  very  thing  which  gratifies  the  passion  :  this  is  what 
it  directly  tends  towards,  as  its  proper  design.  Other 
vices  eventually  do  mischief :  this  alone  aims  at  it  as  an 
end. 

Nothing  can  with  reason  be  urged  in  justification  of 
revenge,  from  the  good  effects  which  the  indulgence  of 
it  were  before  mentioned  *  to  have  upon  the  affairs  of 
the  world  ;  because,  though  it  be  a  remarkable  instance 
of  the  wisdom  of  Providence  to  bring  good  out  of  evil, 
yet  vice  is  vice  to  hint^  who  is  guilty  of  it.  "  But  sup- 
pose these  good  effects  are  foreseen :"  that  is,  sup- 
pose reason  in  a  particular  case  leads  a  man  the  same 
way  as  passion  ?  Why  then,  to  be  sure,  he  should  follow 
his  reason,  in  this  as  well  as  in  all  other  cases.  So  that, 
turn  the  matter  which  way  ever  you  will,  no  more  can  be 
allowed  to  this  passion,  than  what  hath  been  already.! 

As  to  that  love  of  our  enemies,  which  is  commanded; 
this  supposes  the  general  obligation  to  benevolence  or 
good-will  towards  mankind:  and  this  being  supposed, 
that  precept  is  no  more  than  to  forgive  injuries  ;  that  is, 
to  keep  clear  of  those  abuses  before  mentioned  :  because 
that  we  have  the  habitual  temper  of  benevolence  is  taken 
for  granted. 

Resentment  is  not  inconsistent  with  good-will;  for  we 

*  Smn.  VIII.  p.  100.  +  Ibid.  p.  99. 


Ser.ix.]         upon  forgiveness  of  injuries.  107 

often  see  both  together  in  very  high  degrees ;  not  only 
in  parents  towards  their  children,  but  in  cases  of 
friendship  and  dependence,  where  there  is  no  natural 
relation.  These  contrary  passions,  though  they  may 
lessen,  do  not  necessarily  destroy  each  other.  We 
may  therefore  love  our  enemy,  and  yet  have  resentment 
against  him  for  his  injurious  behaviour  towards  us.  But 
when  this  resentment  entirely  destroys  our  natural  bene- 
volence towards  him,  it  is  excessive,  and  becomes 
malice  or  revenge.  The  command  to  prevent  its  having 
this  effect,  i,  e.  to  forgive  injuries,  is  the  same  as  to  love 
our  enemies  ;  because  that  love  is  always  supposed,  un- 
less destroyed  by  resentment. 

"  But  though  mankind  is  the  natural  object  of  bene- 
volence, yet  may  it  not  be  lessened  upon  vice,  i,  e.  in- 
jury.^" Allowed:  but  if  every  degree  of  vice  or  injury 
must  destroy  that  benevolence,  then  no  man  is  the  object 
of  our  love  ;  for  no  man  is  without  faults. 

*^But  if  lower  instances  of  injury  may  lessen  our 
benevolence,  why  may  not  higher,  or  the  highest,  destroy 
it.^^"  The  answer  is  obvious.  It  is  not  man's  being  a 
social  creature,  much  less  his  being  a  moral  agent,  from 
whence  alone  our  obligations  to  good-will  towards  him 
arise.  There  is  an  obligation  to  it  prior  to  either  of  these, 
arising  from  his  being  a  sensible  creature ;  that  is,  cap- 
able of  happiness  or  misery.  Now  this  obligation  can- 
not be  superseded  by  his  moral  character.  What  justi- 
fies public  executions  is,  not  tliat  the  guilt,  or  demerit  of 
the  criminal  dispenses  with  the  obligation  of  good-will, 
neither  would  this  justify  any  severity;  but,  that  his  life 
is  inconsistent  with  the  quiet  and  happiness  of  the  world: 
that  is,  a  general  and  more  enlarged  obligation  neces- 
sarily destroys  a  particular  and  more  confined  one  of  the 
same  kind  inconsistent  with  it.  Guilt  or  injury  then 
does  not  dispense  with  or  supersede  the  duty  of  love  and 
good-will. 

Neither  does  that  peculiar  regard  to  ourselves,  which 
was  before  allowed  to  be  natural*  to  mankind,  dispense 
with  it:  because  that  can  no  way  innocently  heighten 
our  resentment  against  those  v/ho  have  been  injurious 

♦  Scrni.  VIII.  P-  90. 


108  UPON  FORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES.  [Skr.  IX. 

to  ourselves  in  particular,  any  otherwise  than  as  it 
heightens  our  sense  of  the  injury  or  guilt;  and  guilt, 
though  in  the  highest  degree,  does  not,  as  hath  been 
shown,  dispense  with  or  supersede  the  duty  of  love  and 
good-wull. 

If  all  this  be  true,  what  can  a  man  say,  who  will  dis- 
pute the  reasonableness,  or  the  possibility,  of  obeying 
the  divine  precept  we  are  now  considering  ?  Let  him 
speak  out,  and  it  must  be  thus  he  will  speak.  "  Man- 
kind, i.  e.  a  creature  defective  and  faulty,  is  the  proper 
object  of  good- will,  whatever  his  faults  are,  when  they 
respect  others ;  but  not  when  they  respect  me  myself." 
That  men  should  be  affected  in  this  manner,  and  act  ac- 
cordingly, is  to  be  accounted  for  like  other  vices  ;  but 
to  assert  that  it  ought,  and  must  be  thus,  is  self-partiality 
possessed  of  the  very  understanding. 

Thus  love  to  our  enemies,  and  those  who  have  been 
injurious  to  us,  is  so  far  from  being  a  rant,  as  it  has  been 
profanely  called,  that  it  is  in  truth  the  law  of  our  nature, 
and  what  every  one  must  see  and  own,  who  is  not  quite 
blinded  wdth  self-love. 

From  hence  it  is  easy  to  see,  what  is  the  degree  in 
which  we  are  commanded  to  love  our  enemies,  or  those 
who  have  been  injurious  to  us.  It  were  well  if  it  could 
as  easily  be  reduced  to  practice.  It  cannot  be  imagined, 
that  we  are  required  to  love  them  with  any  pecuhar  kind 
of  affection.  But  suppose  the  person  injured  to  have  a 
due  natural  sense  of  the  injury,  and  no  more;  he  ought 
to  be  affected  towards  the  injurious  person  in  the  same 
way  any  good  men,  uninterested  in  the  case,  w^ould  be  ; 
if  they  had  the  same  just  sense,  which  we  have  supposed 
the  injured  person  to  have,  of  the  fault:  after  which  there 
will  yet  remain  real  good-will  towards  the  offender. 

Now  what  is  there  in  all  this,  which  should  be 
thought  impracticable.^  I  am  sure  there  is  nothing  in 
it  unreasonable.  It  is  indeed  no  more  than  that  we 
should  not  indulge  a  passion,  which,  if  generally  indulged, 
would  propagate  itself  so  as  almost  to  lay  w^aste  the 
world :  that  we  should  suppress  that  partial,  that  false 
self-love,  which  is  the  weakness  of  our  nature ;  that  un- 
easmess  and  misery  should  not  be  produced,  without  any 


Sbb.  IX.]  UPON  FORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES.  109 

good  purpose  to  be  served  by  it:  and  that  we  should  not 
be  affected  towards  persons  differently  from  what  their 
nature  and  character  require. 

But  since  to  be  convinced  that  any  temper  of  mind, 
and  course  of  behaviour,  is  our  duty,  and  the  contrary 
vicious,  hath  but  a  distant  influence  upon  our  temper 
and  actions;  let  me  add  some  few  reflections,  which  may 
have  a  more  direct  tendency  to  subdue  those  vices  in  the 
heart,  to  beget  in  us  this  right  temper,  and  lead  us  to  a 
right  behaviour  towards  those  who  have  off'ended  us: 
which  reflections  however  shall  be  such  as  will  further 
show  the  obligations  we  are  under  to  it. 

No  one,  I  suppose,  would  choose  to  have  an  indignity 
put  upon  him,  or  to  be  injuriously  treated.  If  then  there 
be  any  probability  of  a  misunderstanding  in  the  case, 
either  from  our  imagining  we  are  injured  when  we  are 
not,  or  representing  the  injury  to  ourselves  as  greater 
than  it  really  is;  one  would  hope  an  intimation  of  this 
sort  might  be  kindly  received,  and  that  people  would  be 
glad  to  find  the  injury  not  so  great  as  they  imagined. 
Therefore,  without  knowing  particulars,  I  take  upon  me 
to  assure  all  persons  who  think  they  have  received  in- 
dignities or  injurious  treatment,  that  they  may  depend 
upon  it,  as  in  a  manner  certain,  that  the  offence  is  not 
so  great  as  they  themselves  imagine.  We  are  in  such  a 
peculiar  situation,  with  respect  to  injuries  done  to  our- 
selves, that  we  can  scarce  any  more  see  them  as  they 
really  are,  than  our  eye  can  see  itself.  If  we  could  place 
ourselves  at  a  due  distance,  i.  c.  be  really  unprejudiced, 
we  should  frequently  discern  that  to  be  in  reality  inad- 
vertence and  mistake  in  our  enemy,  which  we  now  fancy 
we  see  to  be  malice  or  scorn.  From  this  proper  point  of 
view,  we  should  likewise  in  all  probability  see  something 
of  these  latter  in  ourselves,  and  most  certainly  a  great 
deal  of  the  former.  Thus  the  indignity  or  injury  would 
almost  infinitely  lessen,  and  perhaps  at  last  come  out  to 
be  nothing  at  all.  Self-love  is  a  medium  of  a  peculiar 
kind;  in  these  cases  it  magnifies  every  thing  which  is 
amiss  in  others,  at  the  same  time  that  it  lessens  every 
thing  amiss  in  ourselves. 

Anger  also  or  hatred  may  be  considered  as  another 


1 10  ItPON  FORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES.  [Sbr.  IX. 

false  medium  of  viewing  things,  which  always  represents 
characters  and  actions  much  worse  than  they  really  are. 
Ill-will  not  only  never  speaks,  but  never  thinks  well,  of 
the  person  towards  whom  it  is  exercised.  Thus  in  cases 
of  offence  and  enmity,  the  whole  character  and  behaviour 
is  considered  with  an  eye  to  that  particular  part  which 
has  offended  us,  and  the  whole  man  appears  monstrous, 
without  any  thing  right  or  human  in  him:  whereas  the 
resentm.ent  should  surely  at  least  be  confined  to  that 
particular  part  of  the  behaviour  which  gave  offence: 
since  the  other  parts  of  a  man's  life  and  character  stand 
just  the  same  as  they  did  before. 

In  general,  there  are  very  few  instances  of  enmity 
carried  to  any  length,  but  inadvertency,  misunderstand- 
ing, some  real  mistake  of  the  case,  on  one  side  however, 
if  not  on  both,  has  a  great  share  in  it. 

If  these  things  were  attended  to,  these  ill-humours 
could  not  be  carried  to  any  length  amongst  good  men, 
and  they  would  be  exceedingly  abated  amongst  all. 
And  one  would  hope  they  might  be  attended  to:  for  all 
that  these  cautions  come  to  is  really  no  more  than  desir- 
ing, that  things  may  be  considered  and  judged  of  as  they 
are  in  themselves,  that  we  should  have  an  eye  to,  and 
beware  of,  what  would  otherwise  lead  us  into  mistakes. 
So  that  to  make  allowances  for  inadvertence,  misunder- 
standing, for  the  partialities  of  self-love,  and  the  false 
light  which  anger  sets  things  in ;  I  say,  to  make  allow- 
ances for  these,  is  not  to  be  spoken  of  as  an  instance  of 
humbleness  of  mind,  or  meekness  and  moderation  of 
temper;  but  as  what  common  sense  should  suggest,  to 
avoid  judging  wrong  of  a  matter  before  us,  though  virtue 
and  morals  were  out  of  the  case.  And  therefore  it  as 
much  belongs  to  ill  men,  who  will  indulge  the  vice  I 
have  been  arguing  against,  as  to  good  men,  who  en- 
deavour to  subdue  it  in  themselves.  In  a  word,  all  these 
cautions,  concerning  anger  and  self-love,  are  no  more 
than  desiring  a  man,  who  was  looking  through  a  glass, 
which  either  magnified  or  lessened,  to  take  notice,  that 
the  objects  are  not  in  themselves  what  they  appear 
through  that  medium. 

To  all  these  tilings  one  might  add,  that,  resentment 


Seh.  IX.]  UPON  FORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES.  Ill 

being  out  of  the  case,  there  is  not,  properly  speaking, 
any  such  thing  as  direct  ill-will  in  one  man  towards 
another:  therefore  the  first  indignity  or  injury,  if  it  be 
not  owing  to  inadvertence  or  misunderstanding,  may 
however  be  resolved  into  other  particular  passions  or 
self-love :  principles  quite  distinct  from  ill-will,  and 
which  we  ought  all  to  be  disposed  to  excuse  in  others, 
from  experiencing  so  m.uch  of  them  in  ourselves.  A 
great  man  of  antiquity  is  reported  to  have  said,  that,  as 
he  never  was  indulgent  to  any  one  fault  in  himself,  he 
could  not  excuse  those  of  others.  This  sentence  could 
scarce  with  decency  come  out  of  the  mouth  of  any  human 
creature.  But  if  we  invert  the  former  part,  and  put  it 
thus :  that  he  was  indulgent  to  i»any  faults  in  himself, 
as  it  is  to  be  feared  the  best  of  us  are,  and  yet  was  im- 
placable; how  monstrous  would  such  an  assertion  appear! 
And  this  is  the  case  in  respect  to  every  human  creature, 
in  proportion  as  he  is  without  the  forgiving  spirit  I  have 
been  recommending. 

Further,  though  injury,  injustice,  oppression,  the  base- 
ness of  ingratitude,  are  the  natural  objects  of  indignation, 
or  if  you  please  of  resentment,  as  before  explained;  yet 
they  are  likewise  the  objects  of  compassion,  as  they  are 
their  own  punishment,  and  without  repentance  will  for 
ever  be  so.  No  one  ever  did  a  designed  injury  to  another, 
but  at  the  same  time  he  did  a  much  greater  to  himself. 
If  therefore  we  would  consider  things  justly,  such  a  one 
is,  according  to  the  natural  course  of  our  affections,  an 
object  of  compassion,  as  well  as  of  displeasure:  and  to 
be  affected  really  in  this  manner,  I  say  really,  in  op- 
position to  show  and  pretence,  argues  the  true  greatness 
of  mind.  We  have  an  example  of  forgiveness  in  this 
way  in  its  utmost  perfection,  and  which  indeed  includes 
in  it  all  that  is  good,  in  that  prayer  of  our  blessed  Saviour 
on  the  cross:  Father,  forgive  them;  for  they  know  not 
what  they  do. 

But  lastly.  The  offences  which  we  are  all  guilty  of 
against  God,  and  the  injuries  which  men  do  to  each  other, 
are  often  mentioned  together:  and,  making  allowances  for 
the  infinite  distance  between  the  Majesty  of  Heaven,  and 
a  frail  mortal,  and  likewise  for  this,  that  he  cannot  pos- 


1 12  UPON  FORGIVENESS  OF  INJURIES.  [Skr.  IX. 

sibly  be  affected  or  moved  as  we  are ;  offences  committed 
by  others  against  ourselves,  and  the  manner  in  which  we 
are  apt  to  be  affected  with  them,  give  a  real  occasion  for 
calling  to  mind  our  own  sins  against  God.  Now  there  is  an 
apprehension  and  presentiment,  natural  to  mankind,  that 
we  ourselves  shall  one  time  or  other  be  dealt  with  as  we 
deal  with  others;  and  a  peculiar  acquiescence  in,  and 
feeling  of,  the  equity  and  justice  of  this  equal  distribution. 
This  natural  notion  of  equity  the  son  of  Sirach  has  put 
in  the  strongest  way.  He  that  revengeth  shall  find  ven^ 
geance  from  the  Lordj  and  he  will  surely  keep  his  sins  in 
remembrance.  Forgive  thy  neighbour  the  hurt  he  hath  done 
unto  thee,  so  shall  thy  sins  be  forgiven  when  thou  prayest. 
One  man  beareth  hatred*against  another;  and  doth  he  seek 
pardon  from  the  Lord?  He  sheweth  no  mercy  to  a  man 
ichich  is  like  himself;  and  doth  he  ask  forgiveness  of  his 
own  sins?*  Let  any  one  read  our  Saviour's  parable  of 
the  king  loho  took  account  of  his  servants  ;\  and  the  equity 
and  rightness  of  the  sentence  which  was  passed  upon 
him  who  was  unmerciful  to  his  fellow  servant,  will  be 
felt.  There  is  somewhat  in  human  nature,  which  accords 
to  and  falls  in  with  that  method  of  determination.  Let 
us  then  place  before  our  eyes  the  time  which  is  repre- 
sented in  the  parable ;  that  of  our  own  death,  or  the  final 
judgment.  Suppose  yourselves  under  the  apprehensions 
of  approaching  death  j  that  you  were  just  going  to  appear 
naked  and  without  disguise  before  the  Judge  of  all  tlio 
earth,  to  give  an  account  of  your  behaviour  towards  your 
fellow  creatures:  could  any  thing  raise  more  dreadful 
apprehensions  of  that  judgment,  than  the  reflection  that 
you  had  been  implacable,  and  without  mercy  towards 
those  who  had  offended  you:  without  that  forgiving 
spirit  towards  others,  which  that  it  may  now  be  exercised 
towards  yourselves,  is  your  only  hopeP  And  these 
natural  apprehensions  are  authorized  by  our  Saviour's 
application  of  the  parable :  ^o  likewise  shall  my  heavenly 
Father  do  also  unto  you,  if  ye  from  your  hearts  forgive  not 
every  one  his  brother  their  trespasses.  On  the  other  hand, 
suppose  a  good  man  in  the  same  circumstance,  in  the 
last  part  and  close  of  life;  conscious  of  many  frailties, 

*  Ecclus.  xxviii.  1 — 4.  f  Matt,  xviii. 


5331.  X.]  UPON  SELF-DECEIT.  113 

as  the  best  are,  but  conscious  too  that  he  had  been 
meek,  forgiving,  and  merciful;  that  he  had  in  siinpHcity 
of  heart  been  ready  to  pass  over  offences  against  him- 
self :  the  having  felt  this  good  spirit  will  give  him,  not 
only  a  full  view  of  the  amiableness  of  it,  but  the  surest 
hope  that  he  shall  meet  with  it  in  his  Judge.  This  like- 
wise is  confirmed  by  his  own  declaration:  If  ye  forgive 
men  their  trespasses,  your  heavenly  Father  will  likewise 
forgive  you.  And  that  we  might  have  a  constant  sense 
of  it  upon  our  mind,  the  condition  is  expressed  in  our 
daily  prayer.  A  forgiving  spirit  is  therefore  absolutely 
necessary,  as  ever  we  hope  for  pardon  of  our  own  sins, 
as  ever  we  hope  for  peace  of  mind  in  our  dying  mo- 
ments, or  for  the  divine  mercy  at  that  day  when  we 
shall  most  stand  in  need  of  it. 


SERMON  X 

UPON  SELF-DECEIT. 

And  Nathan  said  to  David,  Thou  art  the  man. — 2  Sam.  xii.  7 

These  words  are  the  application  of  Nathan's  parable  to 
David,  upon  occasion  of  his  adultery  with  Bathsheba, 
and  the  murder  of  Uriah  her  husband.  The  parable, 
which  is  related  in  the  most  beautiful  simplicity,  is  this: 
*T/tere  ice  re  two  men  in  one  city ;  the  one  rich  and  the 
other  ])Oor,  The  rich  man  had  exceeding  many  focks  and 
herds :  hut  the  poor  man  had  nothing,  save  one  little  cxoe- 
lamb,  which  he  had  bought  and  nourished  up  :  and  it  grew 
up  together  icith  him,  and  with  his  children;  it  did  cat  oj 
his  own  meat,  and  drank  of  his  own  cup,  and  lay  in  his 
bosom,  and  was  unto  hi/n  as  a  daughter.  And  there  came 
a  traveller  unto  the  rich  man,  and  he  spared  to  take  of  his 
own  fiock,  and  of  his  own  herd,  to  dress  for  the  way -faring 
man  that  urns  come  unto  him,  bat  look  the  poor  mans  lamb, 
and  dressed  it  for  the  man  that  was  come  to  him.  And 
David's  anger  was  greatly  kindled  against  the  man,  and  he 

*  Vrr.  1. 
li 


114  UPON  SELF-DECEIT.  [Sek.  X. 

said  to  Nathan,  As  the  Lord  liveth,  the  man  that  hath  done 
this  tiling  shall  surely  die.  And  he  shall  restore  the  lamb 
four -fold,  because  he  did  this  thing,  and  because  he  had  no 
pity.  David  passes  sentence,  not  only  that  there  should 
be  a  fourfold  restitution  made;  but  he  proceeds  to  the 
rigour  of  justice,  the  man  that  hath  done  this  thing  shall 
die:  and  this  judgment  is  pronounced  with  the  utmost 
indignation  against  such  an  act  of  inhumanity;  As  the 
Lord  llveth,  he  shall  surely  die  ;  and  his  anger  was  greatly 
kindled  against  the  man.  And  the  prophet  answered, 
Thou  art  the  man.  He  had  been  guilty  of  much  greater 
inhumanity,  with  the  utmost  deliberation,  thought,  and 
contrivance.  Near  a  year  must  have  passed,  between 
the  time  of  the  commission  of  his  crimes,  and  the  time 
of  the  prophet's  coming  to  him;  and  it  does  not  appear 
from  the  story,  that  he  had  in  all  this  while  the  least  re- 
morse or  contrition. 

There  is  net  any  thing,  relating  to  men  and  characters, 
more  surprising  and  unaccountable,  than  this  partiality 
to  themselves,  which  is  observable  in  many;  as  there  is 
nothing  of  more  melancholy  reflection,  respecting  mora- 
lity, virtue,  and  religion.  Hence  it  is  that  many  men 
seem  perfect  strangers  to  their  own  characters.  They 
think,  and  reason,  and  judge  quite  differently  upon  any 
matter  relating  to  themselves,  from  what  they  do  in  cases^ 
of  others  where  they  are  not  interested.  Hence  it  is  one 
hears  people  exposing  follies,  which  they  themselves  are 
eminent  for;  and  talking  with  great  severity  against  par- 
ticular vices,  which,  if  all  the  world  be  not  mistaken, 
they  themselves  are  notoriously  guilty  of.  This  self- 
ignorance  and  self-partiality  may  be  in  all  different  de- 
grees. It  is  a  lower  degree  of  it  which  David  himself 
refers  to  in  the  se  words.  Who  can  tell  hoio  oft  he  offendcth  ? 
O  cleanse  thou  me  from  my  secret  faults.  This  is  the 
ground  of  that  advice  of  Elihu  to  Job:  Surely  it  is  meet 
to  be  said  unto  God, — That  which  I  see  not,  teach  thou  me  ; 
if  I  have  done  iniquity,  I  will  do  no  more.  And  Solomon 
saw  this  thing  in  a  very  strong  light,  when  he  said.  He 
that  trusteth  his  own  heart  is  a  fool.  This  likewise  was 
the  reason  why  that  precept,  Know  thyself,  was  so  fre- 
quently inculcated  by  the  philosophers  of  old.    For  if  it 


Se:i.  X  ]  UPON  SELF-DECEIT.  115 

were  not  for  that  partial  and  fond  regard  to  ourselves,  it 
would  certainly  be  no  great  difficulty  to  know  our  own 
character,  what  passes  within  the  bent  and  bias  of  our 
mind;  much  less  would  there  be  any  difficulty  in  judging 
rightly  of  our  own  actions.  But  from  this  partiality  it 
frequently  comes  to  pass,  that  the  observation  of  many 
men's  being  themselves  last  of  all  acquainted  with  what 
falls  out  in  their  own  famihes,  may  be  applied  to  a  nearer 
home,  to  what  passes  within  their  own  breasts. 

There  is  plainly,  in  the  generality  of  mankind,  an  ab- 
sence of  doubt  or  distrust,  in  a  very  great  measure,  as  to 
their  moral  character  and  behaviour;  and  likewise  a  dis- 
position to  take  for  granted,  that  all  is  right  and  well 
with  them  in  thpse  respects.  The  former  is  owing  to 
their  not  reflecting,  not  exercising  their  judgment  upon 
themselves;  the  latter,  to  self-love.  I  am  not  speaking 
of  that  extravagance,  which  is  sometimes  to  be  met  with; 
instances  of  persons  declaring  in  words  at  length,  that 
they  never  were  in  the  wrong,  nor  had  ever  any  diffi- 
dence of  the  justness  of  their  conduct,  in  their  whole 
lives.  No,  these  people  are  too  far  gone  to  have  any 
thing  said  to  them.  The  thing  before  us  is  indeed  of 
this  kind,  but  in  a  lower  degree,  and  confined  to  the 
moral  character;  somewhat  of  which  we  almost  all  of  us 
have,  without  reflecting  upon  it.  Now  consider,  how 
long  and  how  grossly,  a  person  of  the  best  understanding 
might  be  imposed  upon  by  one  of  whom  he  had  not  any 
suspicion,  and  in  whom  he  placed  an  entire  confidence ; 
especially  if  there  were  friendship  and  real  kindness  in 
the  case;  surely  this  holds  even  stronger  with  respect 
to  that  self  we  are  all  so  fond  of.  Hence  arises  in  men 
a  disregard  of  reproof  and  instruction,  rules  of  conduct 
and  moral  discipline,  which  occasionally  come  in  their 
way:  a  disregard,  I  say,  of  these;  not  in  every  respect, 
but  in  this  single  one,  namely,  as  what  may  be  of  service 
to  them  in  particular  towards  mending  their  own  hearts 
and  tempers,  and  making  them  better  men.  It  never  in 
earnest  comes  into  their  thoughts,  whether  such  admo- 
nitions may  not  relate,  and  be  of  service  to  themselves, 
and  this  quite  distinct  from  a  positive  persuasion  to  the 
contrary,  a  persuasion  from  reflection  that  they  are  in- 

n  2 


116  UPON  SELF-DECEIT.  [Skr.  X. 

nocent  and  blameless  in  those  respects.  Thus  we  may 
invert  the  observation  which  is  somewhere  made  upon 
Brutus,  that  he  never  read,  but  in  order  to  make  himself 
a  better  man.  It  scarce  comes  into  the  thoughts  of  the 
generality  of  mankind,  that  this  use  is  to  be  made  of 
moral  reflections  which  they  meet  with;  that  this  use,  I 
say,  is  to  be  made  of  them  by  themselves,  for  every  body 
observes  and  wonders  that  it  is  not  done  by  others. 

Further,  there  are  instances  of  persons  having  so  fixed 
and  steady  an  eye  upon  their  own  interest,  whatever 
they  place  it  in,  and  the  interest  of  those  whom  they 
consider  as  themselves,  as  in  a  manner  to  regard  nothing 
else ;  their  views  are  almost  confined  to  this  alone.  Now 
we  cannot  be  acquainted  with,  or  in  ^any  propriety  of 
speech  be  said  to  know  any  thing,  but  what  we  attend 
to.  If  therefore  they  attend  only  to  one  side,  they  really 
will  not,  cannot  see  or  know  what  is  to  be  alleged  on  the 
other.  Though  a  man  hath  the  best  eyes  in  the  world, 
he  cannot  see  any  way  but  that  which  he  turns  them. 
Thus  these  persons,  without  passing  over  the  least,  the 
most  minute  thing,  which  can  possibly  be  urged  in  fa- 
vour of  themselves,  shall  overlook  entirely  the  plainest 
and  most  obvious  things  on  the  other  side.  And  whilst 
they  are  under  the  power  of  this  temper,  thought  and 
consideration  upon  the  matter  before  them  has  scarce 
any  tendency  to  set  them  right:  because  they  are  en- 
gaged; and  their  deliberation  concerning  an  action  to  be 
done,  or  reflection  upon  it  afterwards,  is  not  to  see  whe- 
ther it  be  right,  but  to  find  out  reasons  to  justify  or  pal- 
liate it;  palhate  it,  not  to  others,  but  to  themselves. 

In  some  there  is  to  be  observed  a  general  ignorance 
of  themselves,  and  wrong  way  of  thinking  and  judging 
in  every  thing  relating  to  themselves;  their  fortune,  re- 
putation, every  thing  in  which  self  can  come  in:  and  this 
perhaps  attended  with  the  rightest  judgment  in  all  other 
matters.  In  others  this  partiality  is  not  so  general,  has 
not  taken  hold  of  the  whole  man,  but  is  confined  to  some 
particular  favourite  passion,  interest,  or  pursuit;  suppose 
ambition,  covetousness,  or  any  other.  And  these  per- 
sons may  probably  judge  and  determine  what  is  perfectly 
just  and  proper,  even  in  things  in  which  they  themselves 


Skb.  X.]  UPON  SELF-DECEIT.  117 

are  concerned,  if  these  things  have  no  relation  to  their 
particular  favourite  passion^ or  pursuit.  Heiice  arises 
that  amazing  incongruity,  and  seeming  inconsistency 
of  character,  from  whence  shght  observers  take  it 
for  granted,  that  the  whole  is  hypocritical  and  false; 
not  being  able  otherwise  to  reconcile  the  several  parts: 
whereas  in  truth  there  is  real  honesty,  so  far  as  it  goes. 
There  is  such  a  thing  as  men's  being  honest  to  such  a 
degree,  and  in  such  respects,  but  no  further.  And  this, 
as  it  is  true,  so  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  be  taken 
notice  of,  and  allowed  them;  such  general  and  undis- 
tinguishing  censure  of  their  whole  character,  as  designing 
and  false,  being  one  main  thing  which  confirms  them  in 
their  self-deceit.  They  know  that  the  whole  censure  is 
not  true;  and  so  take  for  granted  that  no  part  of  it  is. 

But  to  go  on  with  the  explanation  of  the  thing  itself: 
Vice  in  general  consists  in  having  an  unreasonable  and 
too  great  regard  to  ourselves,  in  comparison  of  others. 
Robbery  and  murder  is  never  from  the  love  of  injustice 
or  cruelty,  but  to  gratify  some  other  passion,  to  gain 
some  supposed  advantage:  and  it  is  false  selfishness 
alone,  whether  cool  or  passionate,  which  makes  a  man 
resolutely  pursue  that  end,  be  it  ever  so  much  to  the 
injury  of  another.  But  whereas,  in  common  and  ordi- 
nary wickedness,  this  unreasonableness,  this  partiality 
and  selfishness,  relates  only,  or  chiefly,  to  the  temper 
and  passions,  in  the  characters  we  are  now  considering, 
it  reaches  to  the  understanding,  and  influences  the  very 
judgment.*  And,  besides  that  general  want  of  distrust 
and  diffidence  concerning  our  own  character,  there  are, 

*  That  peculiar  retranl  for  ourselves  which  frequently  produces  this  pariialiiy  of 
judgment  in  our  own  favour,  may  have  a  qmip  contrary  effect,  niul  ocGision  the 
utmost  diffivlence  and  distrust  of  oui-s<  lves;  were  it  only,  as  it  n:ay  set  us  u|>on  a  more 
frequent  antl  strict  siirvry  anil  n  vit  w  of  our  own  rlianirter  and  behaviour.  This 
searcJi  or  rtcolleciion  iLvlf  unplies  somewhat  of  diffidence  ;  and  ihr  (lisct)\ rries  wh 
make,  what  iN  broti£>^ht  to  our  vi<  w,  m;iy  possibly  increjis*'  it.  (iiKxl  will  lo  anotJier 
may  either  blind  our  judfrm*  nt,  so  as  to  make  us  ovt  riook  liis  faul»» ;  or  it  may  put 
lis  \i\>oi\  exercisinjT  Dial  judgmt  ul  witli  greater  strictness,  to  see  whelhiT  h»-  is  so 
faultU-ss  and  perfi  ct  as  we  wish  him.  If  that  peculiar  reganl  to  ourst  lves  1«  atls  us 
to  exAmint-  our  own  chararter  with  this  rrenter  sev«  rily,  in  onU  r  n-jilly  lo  improre 
and  grow  In-tler,  it  is  the  ino^t  comnieniK^ible  turn  of  min«l  pt>vsil.le,  and  nm  scnrce 
br  to  f  xct  ss.  But  if,  evrry  thint;  hath  its  coiinl<  rf«  ii.  \\r  are  so  nuich  einph»yed 
.-.bout  ours»  lves  in  onl«  r  lo  d.^rju  se  what  is  an>  ss.  nnd  t»»  tjink'-  a  bi  lti  r  ap[>ranitiOP  ; 
or  if  our  atU'nlion  to  ourN«  lvt  i»  h]u>  ciiii  fly  this  elTict  ;  it  is  lialUi-  Ut  nui  uf)  into  the 
u"  )iir<t  wi  akucss  n:ul  (  xc- ss,  sitid  is  I  k«*  all  »v.iii  r  •  xcr^vs  its  own  disq»p<»inimt"nt  s 
'  •*  v.irce  anv  sm»\v  ihruiji  lv«  s  t^)  .idvuuinm-,  wl.o  arc  ovt-r  solicitous  of  doing  to. 


118  UPON  SELF-DECEIT.  [Ser.  X. 

you  see,  two  things,  which  may  thus  prejudice  and  darken 
the  understanding  itself:  th^t  over-fondness  for  ourselves, 
which  we  are  all  so  liable  to ;  and  also  being  under  the 
power  of  any  particular  passion  or  appetite,  or  engaged 
in  any  particular  pursuit.  And  these,  especially  the  last 
of  the  two,  may  be  in  so  great  a  degree,  as  to  influence 
our  judgment,  even  of  other  persons  and  their  behaviour. 
Thus  a  man,  whose  temper  is  formed  to  ambition  or 
covetousness,  shall  even  approve  of  them  sometimes  in 
others. 

This  seems  to  be  in  a  good  measure  the  account  of 
self-partiality  and  self-deceit,  when  traced  up  to  its 
original.  Whether  it  be,  or  be  not  thought  satisfactory, 
that  there  is  such  a  thing  is  manifest;  and  that  it  is  the 
occasion  of  great  part  of  the  unreasonable  behaviour  of 
men  towards  each  other:  that  by  means  of  it  they  palliate 
their  vices  and  follies  to  themselves:  and  that  it  prevents 
their  applying  to  themselves  those  reproofs  and  instruc- 
tions, which  they  meet  with  either  in  scripture  or  in  moral 
and  religious  discourses,  though  exactly  suitable  to  the 
state  of  their  own  mind,  and  the  course  of  their  beha- 
viour. There  is  one  thing  further  to  be  added  here,  that 
the  temper  we  distinguish  by  hardness  of  heart  with 
respect  to  others,  joined  with  this  self-partiality,  will 
carry  a  man  almost  any  lengths  of  wickedness,  in  the  way 
of  oppression,  hard  usage  of  others,  and  even  to  plain 
injustice;  without  his  having,  from  what  appears,  any 
real  sense  at  all  of  it.  This  indeed  was  not  the  general 
character  of  David:  for  he  plainly  gave  scope  to  the 
affections  of  compassion  and  good-will,  as  well  as  to  his 
passions  of  another  kind. 

But  as  some  occasions  and  circumstances  lie  more 
open  to  this  self-deceit,  and  give  it  greater  scope  and 
opportunities  than  others,  these  require  to  be  particularly 
mentioned. 

It  is  to  be  observed  then,  that  as  there  are  express 
determinate  acts  of  wickedness,  such  as  murder,  adultery, 
theft:  so,  on  the  other  hand,  there  are  numberless  cases 
in  which  the  vice  and  wickedness  cannot  be  exactly 
defined;  but  consists  in  a  certain  general  temper  and 
course  of  action,  or  in  the  nc  gleet  of  some  duty,  suppose 


S.-^R.  X.]  UPON  SELF-DECEIT.  Il9 

charity  or  any  other,  whose  bounds  and  degrees  are  not 
fixed.  This  is  the  very  province  of  self-deceit  and  self- 
partiahty:  here  it  governs  without  check  or  control. 

For  what  commandment  is  there  broken?  Is  tht  re  a 
transgression  where  there  is  no  law?  a  vice  which  can- 
not be  defined?" 

Whoever  wnll  consider  the  whole  commerce  of  human 
life,  will  see  that  a  great  part,  perhaps  the  greatest  part, 
of  {he  intercourse  amongst  mankind,  cannot  be  reduced 
to  fixed  determinate  rules.  Yet  in  these  cases  there  is 
a  right  and  a  wrong:  a  merciful,  a  liberal,  a  kind  and 
compassionate  behaviour,  which  surely  is  our  duty;  and 
an  unmerciful  contracted  spirit,  a  hard  and  oppressive 
course  of  behaviour,  which  is  most  certainly  immoral 
and  vicious.  But  who  can  define  precisely,  wherein  that 
contracted  spirit  and  hard  usage  of  others  consist,  as 
murder  and  theft  may  be  defined?  There  is  not  a  word 
in  our  language,  which  expresses  more  dete  stable  wicked- 
ness than  oppression ;  yet  the  nature  of  this  vice  cannot 
be  so  exactly  stated,  nor  the  bounds  of  it  so  determinately 
marked,  as  that  we  shall  be  able  to  say  in  all  instances, 
where  rigid  right  and  justice  ends,  and  oppression  begins. 
In  these  cases  there  is  great  latitude  left,  for  every  one 
to  determine  for,  and  consequently  to  deceive  himself. 
It  is  chiefly  in  these  cases  that  self-deceit  comes  in;  as^ 
every  one  must  see  that  there  is  much  larger  scope  for 
it  here,  than  in  express,  single,  determinate  acts  of 
wickedness.  However  it  comes  in  with  respect  to  the 
circumstances  attending  the  most  gross  and  determinate 
acts  of  wickedness.  Of  this,  the  story  of  David,  now 
before  us,  affords  the  most  astonishing  instance.  It  is 
really  prodigious,  to  see  a  man,  before  so  remarkable  for 
virtue  and  piety,  going  on  deliberately  from  aduhery  to 
TTiurder,  with  the  same  cool  contrivance,  and,  from  what 
appears,  with  as  little  disturbance,  as  a  man  would  (  n* 
deavour  to  prevent  the  ill  consequences  of  a  mistake  he 
had  made  in  any  common  matter.  I'hat  total  insensi- 
bility of  mind  with  respect  to  tliose  horrid  crimes,  after 
the  commission  of  them,  manifesllv  shows  that  he  did 
some  way  or  other  di^Inde  himself:  and  this  could  not  be 
with  respect  to  tb.e  criiiies  theins  Ucs,  they  were  SO 


120  UPON  SELF-DECEIT.  [Ser.  X.. 

manifestly  of  the  grossest  kind.  What  the  particular 
circumstances  were,  with  which  he  extenuated  them,  and 
quieted  and  deceived  himself,  is  not  related. 

Having  thus  explained  the  nature  of  internal  hypocrisy 
and  self-deceit,  and  remarked  the  occasions  upon  which 
it  exerts  itself;  there  are  several  things  further  to  be  ob- 
served concerning  it:  that  all  of  the  sources,  to  which  it 
was  traced  up,  are  sometimes  observable  together  in  one 
and  the  same  person:  but  that  one  of  them  is  more  re- 
markable, and  to  a  higher  degree,  in  some,  and  others  of 
them  are  so  in  others:  that  in  general  it  is  a  complicated 
thing;  and  may  be  in  all  different  degrees  and  kinds: 
that  the  temper  itself  is  essentially  in  its  ow^n  nature 
vicious  and  immoral.  It  is  unfairness:  it  is  dishonesty; 
it  is  falseness  of  heart:  and  is  therefore  so  far  from  ex- 
tenuating guilt,  that  it  is  itself  the  greatest  of  all  guilt  in 
proportion  to  the  degree  it  prevails;  for  it  is  a  corruption 
of  the  whole  moral  character  in  its  principle.  Our  under- 
standing, and  sense  of  good  and  evil,  is  the  light  and  guide 
of  life:  If  therefore  this  light  that  is  in  thee  he  darhiess, 
how  great  is  that  darkness!"^  For  this  reason  our  Saviour 
puts  an  evil  eye  as  the  direct  opposite  to  a  single  eye ; 
the  absence  of  that  simplicity,  w^hich  these  last  words 
imply,  being  itself  evil  and  vicious.  And  whilst  men  are 
under  the  power  of  this  temper,  in  proportion  still  to  the 
degree  they  are  so,  they  are  fortified  on  every  side 
against  conviction:  and  when  they  hear  the  vice  and 
folly  of  what  is  in  truth  their  own  course  of  life,  exposed 
in  the  justest  and  strongest  manner,  they  will  often  as- 
sent to  it,  and  even  carry  the  matter  further;  persuading 
themselves,  one  does  not  know  how,  but  some  way  or 
other  persuading  themselves,  that  they  are  out  of  these, 
and  that  it  hath  no  relation  to  them.  Yet,  notwithstand- 
ing this,  there  frequently  appears  a  suspicion,  that  all  is 
not  right,  or  as  it  should  be ;  and  perhaps  there  is  always 
at  bottom  somewhat  of  this  sort.  There  are  doubtless 
many  instances  of  the  ambitious,  the  revengeful,  the 
covetous,  and  those  whom  with  too  great  indulgence  we 
on?y  call  the  men  of  pleasure,  who  will  not  allow  them- 
selves to  think  how  guilty  they  are,  who  explain  and 

*  Matt.  vi.  23. 


Sea.  X.]  UPON  SELF-DECEIT.  121 

argue  away  their  guilt  to  themselves:  and  though  they 
do  really  impose  upon  themselves  in  some  measure,  yet 
there  are  none  of  them  but  have,  if  not  a  proper  know- 
ledge, yet  at  least  an  implicit  suspicion,  where  the  weak 
ness  lies,  and  what  part  of  their  behaviour  they  have 
reason  to  wish  unknown  or  forgotten  for  ever.  Truth, 
and  real  good  sense,  and  thorough  integrity,  carry  along 
with  them  a  peculiar  consciousness  of  their  own  genuine- 
ness: there  is  a  feeling  belonging  to  them,  which  does 
not  accompany  their  counterfeits,  error,  folly,  half- 
honesty,  partial  and  slight  regards  to  virtue  and  right, 
so  far  only  as  they  are  consistent  with  that  course  of 
gratification  which  men  happen  to  be  set  upon.  And, 
if  this  be  the  case,  it  is  much  the  same  as  if  we  should 
suppose  a  man  to  have  had  a  general  view  of  some 
scene,  enough  to  satisfy  him  that  it  was  very  disagree- 
able, and  then  to  shut  his  eyes,  that  he  might  not  have  a 
particular  or  distinct  view  of  its  several  deformities.  It 
is  as  easy  to  close  the  eyes  of  the  mind,  as  those  of  the 
body:  and  the  former  is  more  frequently  done  with  wil- 
fulness, and  yet  not  attended  to,  than  the  latter;  the 
actions  of  the  mind  being  more  quick  and  transient,  than 
those  of  the  senses.  This  may  be  further  illustrated  by 
another  thing  observable  in  ordinary  life.  It  is  not  un- 
common for  persons,  who  run  out  their  fortunes,  entirely 
to  neglect  looking  into  the  state  of  their  affairs,  and  this 
from  a  general  knowledge,  that  the  condition  of  them  is 
bad.  These  extravagant  people  are  perpetually  ruined 
before  they  themselves  expected  it:  and  they  tell  you 
for  an  excuse,  and  tell  you  truly,  that  they  did  not  think 
they  were  so  much  in  debt,  or  that  their  expenses  so  far 
exceeded  their  income.  And  yet  no  one  will  take  this 
for  an  excuse,  who  is  sensible  that  their  ignorance  of 
their  particular  circumstances  was  owing  to  their  general 
knowledge  of  them;  that  is,  their  general  knowledge, 
that  matters  were  not  well  with  them,  prevented  their 
looking  into  particulars.  There  is  somewhat  of  the  like 
kind  with  this  in  respect  to  morals,  virtue,  and  religion. 
Men  find  that  the  survey  of  themselves,  their  own  heart 
and  temper,  their  own  life  and  behaviour,  doth  not  afford 
them  satisfaction:  things  are  not  as  they  should  be: 


122  UPON  SELF-DECEIT.  [Skh.  X. 

therefore  they  turn  avvav,  will  not  go  over  particulars,  or 
look  deeper,  lest  they  should  find  more  amiss.  For  who 
would  choose  to  be  put  out  of  humour  with  himself? 
No  one,  surely,  if  it  were  not  in  order  to  mend,  and  to 
be  more  thoroughly  and  better  pleased  with  himself  for 
the  future. 

If  this  sincere  self-enjoyment  and  home-satisfaction  be 
thought  desirable,  and  worth  some  pains  and  diligence; 
the  following  reflections  will,  I  suppose,  deserve  your 
attention;  as  what  may  be  of  service  and  assistance  to 
all  who  are  in  any  measure  honestly  disposed,  for  avoid- 
ing that  fatal  self-deceit,  and  towards  getting  acquainted 
with  themselves. 

The  first  is,  that  those  who  have  never  had  any 
suspicion  of,  who  have  never  made  allowances  for,  this 
weakness  in  themselves,  who  have  never  (if  I  may  be 
allowed  such  a  manner  of  speaking)  caught  themselves 
in  it,  may  almost  take  for  granted  that  they  have  been 
very  much  misled  by  it.  For  consider:  nothing  is  more 
manifest,  than  that  affection  and  passion  of  all  kinds 
influence  the  judgment.  Now  as  we  have  naturally  a 
greater  regard  to  ourselves  than  to  others,  as  the  private 
affection  is  more  prevalent  than  the  public;  the  former 
will  have  proportionally  a  greater  influence  upon  the 
judgment,  upon  our  way  of  considering  things.  People 
are  not  backw^ard  in  owning  this  partiality  of  judgment, 
in  cases  of  friendship  and  natural  relation.  The  reason 
is  obvious,  why  it  is  not  so  readily  acknowledged,  when 
the  interest  which  misleads  us  is  miore  confined,  confined 
to  ourselves:  but  we  all  take  notice  of  it  in  each  other 
in  these  cases.  There  is  not  any  observation  more 
-common,  than  that  there  is  no  judging  of  a  matter  from 
hearing  only  one  side.  This  is  not  founded  upon  sup- 
position, at  least  it  is  not  always,  of  a  formed  design  in 
the  relater  to  deceive:  for  it  holds  in  cases,  where  he 
expects  that  the  whole  will  be  told  over  again  by  the 
other  side.  But  the  supposition,  which  this  observation 
is  founded  upon,  is  the  very  thing  now  before  us;  namely, 
that  men  are  exceedingly  prone  to  deceive  tiiemselves,an(l 
judge  too  favourably  in  every  respect,  where  themselves 
and  their  own  interest  are  concerned.    Thus,  though  we 


S^g.  X  ]  UPON  SELF-DECEIT.  123 

have  not  the  least  reason  to  suspect  that  such  an  in- 
terested person  hath  any  intention  to  deceive  us,  yet  we 
of  course  make  great  allowances  for  his  having  deceived 
himself.  If  this  be  general,  almost  universal,  it  is  prodi- 
gious that  every  man  can  think  himself  an  exception, 
and  that  he  is  free  from  this  self-partiality.  The  direct 
contrary  is  the  truth.  Every  man  may  take  for  granted 
that  he  has  a  great  deal  of  it,  till,  from  the  strictest  ob- 
servation upon  himself,  he  finds  particular  reason  to 
think  otherwise. 

Secondly,  There  is  one  easy  and  almost  sure  way  to 
avoid  being  misled  by  this  self-partiality,  and  to  get  ac- 
quainted with  our  real  character:  to  have  regard  to  the 
suspicious  part  of  it,  and  keep  a  steady  eye  over  our- 
selves in  that  respect.  Suppose  then  a  man  fully  satis- 
fied with  himself,  and  his  own  behaviour;  such  a  one,  if 
you  please,  as  the  Pharisee  in  the  Gospel,  or  a  better 
man. — Well;  but  allowing  this  good  opinion  you  have 
of  yourself  to  be  true,  yet  every  one  is  liable  to  be  mis- 
represented. Suppose  then  an  enemy  were  to  set  about 
defaming  you,  what  part  of  your  character  would  he  sin- 
gle out.^  What  particular  scandal,  think  you,  would  he 
be  most  likely  to  fix  upon  you.^^  And  what  would  the 
world  be  most  ready  to  believe  ?  There  is  scarce  a  man 
living  but  could,  from  the  most  transient  superficial  view' 
of  himself,  answer  this  question.  What  is  that  ill  thing, 
that  faulty  behaviour,  which  I  am  apprehensive  an  ene- 
my, who  was  thoroughly  acquainted  with  me,  would  be 
most  likely  to  lay  to  my  charge,  and  which  the  world 
would  be  most  apt  to  believe?  It  is  indeed  possible 
that  a  man  may  not  be  guilty  in  that  respect.  All  that 
I  say  is,  let  him  in  plainness  and  honesty  fix  upon  that 
part  of  his  character  for  a  particular  survey  and  reflec- 
tion; and  by  this  he  will  come  to  be  acquainted,  whether 
he  be  guilty  or  innocent  in  that  respect,  and  how  far  he 
is  one  or  the  other. 

Thirdly,  It  would  very  much  prevent  our  being  mis- 
led by  this  setf-partiality,  to  reduce  that  practical  rule  of 
our  Saviour,  Whatsoever  ye  would  that  men  should  do  to 
yoUy  even  so  do  unto  them,  to  our  judi^nicnt  and  way  of 
thinking.    This  rule,  you  sci\  consists  of  two  parts 


IC  I*  VfO>i    tsl^LF- DECEIT.  ,'SEa.  X. 

One  is,  to  substitute  another  for  yourself,  when  you  take 
a  survey  of  any  part  of  your  behaviour,  or  consider  what 
is  proper  and  fit  and  reasonable  for  you  to  do  upon  anv 
occasion:  the  other  part  is,  that  you  substitute  yourse.? 
in  t]ie  room  of  another;  consider  yourself  as  the  person 
affected  by  such  a  behaviour,  or  towards  whom  such  an 
action  is  done:  and  then  you  would  not  only  see,  but 
likewise  feel,  the  reasonableness  or  unreasonableness  of 
such  an  action  or  behaviour.  But,  alas!  the  rule  itself 
maybe  dishonestly  applied:  there  are  persons  who  have 
not  impartiality  enough  with  respect  to  themselves,  nor 
regard  enough  for  others,  to  be  able  to  make  a  just  ap- 
plication of  it.  This  just  application,  if  men  would 
honestly  make  it,  is  in  effect  all  that  I  have  been  recom- 
mending; it  is  the  whole  thing,  the  direct  contrary  to 
that  inward  dishonesty  as  respecting  our  intercourse 
with  our  fellow  creatures.  And  even  the  bearing  this 
rule  in  their  thoughts  may  be  of  some  service;  the  at- 
tempt thus  to  apply  it,  is  an  attempt  tow^ards  being  fair 
and  impartial,  and  may  chance  unawares  to  show  them 
to  themselves,  to  show  them  the  truth  of  the  case  they 
are  considering. 

Upon  the  whole  it  is  manifest,  that  there  is  such  a 
thing  as  this  self-partiality  and  self-deceit:  that  in  some 
•persons  it  is  to  a  degree  which  would  be  thought  incre- 
dible, were  not  the  instances  before  our  eyes;  of  which 
the  behaviour  of  David  is  perhaps  the  highest  possible 
one,  in  a  single  particular  case;  for  there  is  not  the  least 
appearance,  that  it  reached  his  general  character:  that 
we  are  almost  all  of  us  influenced  by  it  in  some  degree, 
and  in  some  respects:  that  therefore  every  one  ought  to 
have  an  eye  to  and  beware  of  it.    And  all  that  I  have 
further  to  add  upon  this  subject  is,  that  either  there  is  a 
difference  between  right  and  wrong,  or  there  is  not: 
religion  is  true,  or  it  is  not.    If  it  be  not,  there  is  no 
reason  for  any  concern  about  it:  but  if  it  be  true,  it  re- 
quires real  fairness  of  mind  and  honesty  of  heart.  And, 
if  people  will  be  wicked,  they  had  better ^f  the  two  be 
so  from  the  common  vicious  passions  without  such  re- 
finements, than  from  this  deep  and  calm  source  of  delu- 
sion; which  undermines  the  whole  principle  of  good; 


5er.  XI.]        UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  OUR  NEIGHBOUR.  125 

darkens  that  light,  that  candle  of  the  Lord  within^  ^hich 
is  to  direct  our  steps;  and  corrupts  conscience,  which  is 
the  guide  of  hfe. 


SERMON  XI. 

UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  OUR  NEIGHBOUR, 

PREACHED  ON  ADVENT  SCNDAY. 

And  if  there  be  any  other  commandment^  it  is  briefly  comprehended 
in  this  saying,  namely,  TJiou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself. — 
Rom.  xiii.  9. 

It  is  commonly,  observed,  that  there  is  a  disposition  in 
men  to  complain  of  the  viciousness  and  corruption  of  the 
age  in  which  they  live,  as  greater  than  that  of  former 
ones;  which  is  usually  followed  with  this  further  obser- 
vation, that  mankind  has  been  in  that  respect  much  the 
same  in  all  times.  Now,  not  to  determine  whether  this 
last  be  not  contradicted  by  the  accounts  of  history;  thus 
much  can  scarce  be  doubted,  that  vice  and  folly  takes 
different  turns,  and  some  particular  kinds  of  it  are  more 
open  and  avowed  in  some  ages  than  in  others:  and,  I 
suppose,  it  may  be  spoken  of  as  very  much  the  distinc- 
tion of  the  present  to  profess  a  contracted  spirit,  and 
greater  regards  to  self-interest,  than  appears  to  have 
been  done  formerly.  Upon  this  account  it  seems  worth 
while  to  inquire,  whether  private  interest  is  likely  to  be 
promoted  in  proportion  to  the  degree  in  which  self-love 
engrosses  us,  and  prevails  over  all  other  principles;  or 
whether  the  contracted  affection  may  not  possibly  be  so  pre^ 
valent  as  to  disappoint  itself  and  even  contradict  its  own 
end,  private  good. 

And  since,  further,  there  is  generally  thought  to  be 
some  peculiar  kind  of  contrariety  between  self-love  and 
the  love  of  our  neighbour,  between  the  pursuit  of  public 
and  of  private  good;  insomuch  that  when  you  are  re- 
commending one  of  these,  you  are  supposed  to  be  speak- 
ing against  the  other;  and  from  hence  arises  a  secret 
prejudice  against,  and  frequently  open  scorn  of  all  talk 
of  public  spirit,  and  real  good-will  to  our  fellow  crea- 


126  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  TSer.  Xf. 

tures ;  it  will  be  necessary  to  inquire  what  respect  benevo^ 
lence  hath  to  self -love  ^  and  the  pursuit  of  private  interest 
to  the  pursuit  of  public:  or  whether  there  be  any  tiling 
of  that  pecuhar  inconsistence  and  contrariety  between 
them,  over  and  above  what  there  is  between  self-love 
and  other  passions  and  particular  affections,  and  their 
respective  pursuits. 

These  inquiries,  it  is  hoped,  may  be  favourably  at- 
tended to:  for  there  shall  be  all  possible  concessions 
made  to  the  favourite  passion,  which  hath  so  much  al- 
lowed to  it,  and  whose  cause  is  so  universally  pleaded: 
it  shall  be  treated  with  the  utmost  tenderness  and  con- 
cern for  its  interests. 

In  order  to  this,  as  well  as  to  determine  the  foremen- 
tioned  questions,  it  will  be  necessary  to  consider  the  na- 
turCy  the  object,  and  end  of  that  self-love,  as  distinguished 
from  other  principles  or  affections  in  the  mind,  and  their 
respective  objects. 

Every  man  hath  a  general  desire  of  his  own  happi- 
ness ;  and  likewise  a  variety  of  particular  affections,  pas- 
sions, and  appetites  to  particular  external  objects.  The 
former  proceeds  from,  or  is  self-love;  and  seems  inse- 
parable from  all  sensible  creatures,  who  can  reflect  upon 
themselves  and  their  own  interest  or  happiness,  so  as  to 
have  that  interest  an  object  to  their  minds:  what  is  to  be 
said  of  the  latter  is,  that  they  proceed  from,  or  together 
make  up  that  particular  nature,  according  to  which  man 
is  made.  The  object  the  former  pursues  is  somewhat 
internal,  our  own  happiness,  enjoyment,  satisfaction; 
whether  we  have,  or  have  not,  a  distinct  particular  per- 
ception what  it  is,  or  wherein  it  consists:  the  objects  of 
the  latter  are  this  or  that  particular  external  thing,  which 
the  affections  tend  towards,  and  of  which  it  hath  always 
a  particular  idea  or  perception.  The  principle  we  call 
self-love  never  seeks  any  thing  external  for  the  sake  of 
I  he  thing,  but  only  as  a  means  of  happiness  or  good: 
particular  affections  rest  in  the  external  things  them- 
selves. One  belongs  to  man  as  a  reasonable  creature 
reflecting  upon  his  own  interest  or  happiness.  The 
other,  though  quite  distinct  from  reason,  are  as  much  a 
part  of  human  nature. 


Ser.  Xl.j  OXJR  NEIGHBOUR.  12? 

Tliat  all  particular  appetites  and  passions  are  towards 
external  things  themselves,  distinct  from  the  pleasure  aris- 
ing from  thcMy  is  manifested  from  hence;  that  there 
could  not  be  this  pleasure,  were  it  not  for  that  prior 
suitableness  between  the  object  and  the  passion:  there 
could  be  no  enjoyment  or  delight  from  one  thing  more 
than  another,  from  eating  food  more  than  from  swallow- 
ing a  stone,  if  there  were  not  an  affection  or  appetite  to 
one  thing  more  than  another. 

Every  particular  affection,  even  the  love  of  our  neigh- 
bour, is  as  really  our  own  affection,  as  self-love;  and  the 
pleasure  arising  from  its  gratification  is  as  much  my  own 
pleasure,  as  the  pleasure  self-love  would  have,  from 
knowing  I  myself  should  be  happy  some  time  hence, 
would  be  my  own  pleasure.    And  if,  because  every  par- 
ticular affection  is  a  man's  own,  and  the  pleasure  arising 
from  its  gratification  his  own  pleasure,  or  pleasure  to 
himself,  such  particular  affection  must  be  called  self-love; 
according  to  this  way  of  speaking,  no  creature  whatever 
can  possibly  act  but  merely  from  self-love ;  and  every 
action  and  every  affection  whatever  is  to  be  resolved  up 
into  this  one  principle.     But  then  this  is   not  the 
language  of  mankind:  or  if  it  were,  we  should  w^ant 
words  to  express  the  difference,  between  the  principle 
of  an  action,  proceeding  from  cool  consideration  that  it 
will  be  to  my  own  advantage;  and  an  action,  suppose  of 
revenge,  or  of  friendship,  by  which  a  man  runs  upon 
certain  ruin,  to  do  evil  or  good  to  another.    It  is  mani- 
fest the  principles  of  these  actions  are  totally  different, 
and  so  w^ant  different  words  to  be  distinguished  by  :  all 
that  they  agree  in  is,  that  they  both  proceed  from,  and 
are  done  to  gratify  an  inclination  in  a  man's  self.  But 
the  principle  or  inclination  in  one  case  is  self-love  :  in 
the  other,  hatred  or  love  of  another.    There  is  then  a 
distinction  between  the  cool  principle  of  self-love,  or 
general  desire  of  our  own  hap|)incss,  as  one  part  of  our 
nature,  and  one  principle  of  action  ;  and  the  particular 
affections  towards  particular  external  objects,  as  another 
part  of  our  nature,  and  another  ])rinciple  of  action.  How 
much  soever  therefore  is  to  be  allowed  to  self-love,  yet 
it  cannobbe  allowed  to  be  the  wlioli*  ot  <>ur  inward  con- 


128  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  [Seb.  XI. 

stitution  ;  because,  you  see,  there  are  other  parts  or  prin- 
ciples which  come  into  it. 

Further,  private  happiness  or  good  is  all  which  self- 
love  can  make  us  desire,  or  be  concerned  about:  in  hav- 
ing this  consists  its  gratification  ;  it  is  an  affection  to  our- 
selves ;  a  regard  to  our  own  interest,  happiness,  and 
private  good  :  and  in  the  proportion  a  man  hath  this,  he 
is  interested,  or  a  lover  of  himself.  Let  this  be  kept  in 
rcind ;  because  there  is  commonly,  as  I  shall  presently 
have  occasion  to  observe,  another  sense  put  upon  these 
words.  On  the  other  hand,  particular  affections  tend 
towards  particular  external  things:  these  are  their  ob- 
jects: having  these  is  their  end:  in  this  consists  their 
gratification:  no  matter  whether  it  be,  or  be  not,  upon 
the  whole,  our  interest  or  happiness.  An  action  done 
from  the  former  of  these  principles  is  called  an  interest- 
ed action.  An  action  proceeding  from  any  of  the  latter 
has  its  denomination  of  passionate,  ambitious,  friendly, 
revengeful,  or  any  other,  from  the  particular  appetite  or 
affection  from  which  it  proceeds.  Thus  self-love  as  one 
part  of  human  nature,  and  the  several  particular  princi- 
ples as  the  other  part,  are,  themselves,  their  objects  and 
ends,  stated  and  shown. 

From  hence  it  will  be  easy  to  see,  how  far,  and  in 
what  ways,  each  of  these  can  contribute  and  be  subser- 
vient to  the  private  good  of  the  individual.  Happiness 
does  not  consist  in  self-love.  The  desire  of  happiness 
is  no  more  the  ^hing  itself,  than  the  desire  of  riches  is 
the  possession  or  enjoyment  of  them.  People  may  love 
themselves  with  the  most  entire  and  unbounded  affection, 
and  yet  be  extremely  miserable.  Neither  can  self-love 
any  way  help  them  out,  but  by  setting  them  on  work 
to  get  rid  of  the  causes  of  their  misery,  to  gain  or  make 
use  of  those  objects  which  are  by  nature  adapted  to  af- 
ford satisfaction.  Happiness  or  satisfaction  consists 
only  in  the  enjoyment  of  those  objects,  which  are  by  na- 
ture suited  to  our  several  particular  appetites,  passions, 
and  affections.  So  that  if  self-love  wholly  engrosses  us, 
and  leaves  no  room  for  any  other  principle,  there  can 
be  absolutely  no  such  thing  at  all  as  happiness.,  or  enjoy- 
ment of  any  kind  whatever;  since  happiness  consists  in 


Spr.  XL]  OUR  NEIGHBOUR.  129 

the  gratification  of  particular  passions,  which  supposes 
the  having  of  them.  Self-love  then  does  not  constitute 
this  or  that  to  be  our  interest  or  good  ;  but,  our  interest 
or  good  being  constituted  by  nature  and  supposed,  self- 
love  only  puts  us  upon  obtaining  and  securing  it.  There- 
fore, if  it  be  possible,  that  self-love  may  prevail  and  exert 
itself  in  a  degree  or  manner  which  is  not  subservient  to 
this  end  ;  then  it  will  not  follow,  that  our  interest  will  be 
promoted  in  proportion  to  the  degree  in  which  that 
principle  engrosses  us,  and  prevails  over  others.  Nay 
further,  the  pHvate  and  contracted  affection,  when  it  is 
not  subservient  to  this  end,  private  good,  may,  for  any 
thing  that  appears,  have  a  direct  contraiw  tendency  and 
effect.  And  if  we  will  consider  the  matter,  we  shall  see 
that  it  often  really  has.  Disengagement  is  absolutely  ne- 
cessary to  enjoyment:  and  a  perscm  may  have  so  steady 
and  fixed  an  eye  upon  his  own  interest,  whatever  he 
places  it  in,  as  may  hinder  him  from  attending  to  many 
gratifications  within  his  reach,  which  others  have  their 
minds  free  and  open  to.  Over- fondness  for  a  child  is 
not  generally  thought  to  be  for  its  advantage :  and,  if 
there  be  any  guess  to  be  made  from  appearances,  surely 
that  character  we  call  selfish  is  not  the  most  promising 
for  happiness.  Such  a  temper  may  plainly  be,  and  exert 
itself  in  a  degree  and  manner  which  may  give  unneces- 
sarv  and  useless  solicitude  and  anxietv,  in  a  deirree  and 
manner  which  may  prevent  oljtaining  the  means  and 
materials  of  enjoyment,  as  well  as  the  making  use  of 
them.  Immoderate  self-love  does  very  ill  consult  its 
own  interest:  and  how  much  soever  a  paradox  it  may 
appear,  it  is  certainly  true,  that  even  from  self-love  we 
should  endeavour  to  get  over  all  inordinate  regard  to, 
and  consideration  of  ourselves.  Every  one  of  our  pas- 
sions and  affections  hath  its  natural  stint  and  bound, 
which  may  easily  be  exceeded  ;  Avhereas  our  enjoyments 
can  possibly  be  but  in  a  determinate  measure  and  de- 
gree. Therefore  such  excess  of  the  affection,  since  it 
cannot  procure  any  enjoyment,  must  in  all  cases  be  use- 
less; but  is  generally  attended  with  inconveniences,  and 
often  is  downright  pain  and  misery.  This  holds  as  much 
with  regard  to  self-love  as  to  all  other  affections.  The 

X 


130  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  [Skr.  XI. 

natural  degree  of  it,  so  far  as  it  sets  us  on  work  to  gain 
and  make  use  of  the  materials  of  satisfaction,  may  be  to 
our  real  advantage;  but  beyond  or  besides  this,  it  is  in 
several  respects  an  inconvenience  and  disadvantage. 
Thus  it  appears,  that  private  interest  is  so  far  from  be- 
ing likely  to  be  promoted  in  proportion  to  the  degree  in 
which  self-love  engrosses  us,  and  prevails  over  all  other 
principles;  that  the  contracted  affection  may  be  so  preva- 
lent as  to  disappoint  itself,  and  even  contradict  its  own  end, . 
private  good. 

^'But  who,  except  the  most  sordidly  covetous,  ever 
thought  there  was  any  rivalship  between  the  love  of 
greatness,  honour,  power,  or  between  sensual  appetites, 
and  self-love  ?  No,  there  is  a  perfect  harmony  between 
them.  It  is  by  means  of  these  particular  appetites  and 
affections  that  self-love  is  gratified  in  enjoyment,  happi- 
ness, and  satisfaction.  The  competition  and  rivalship  is 
between  self-love  and  the  love  of  our  neighbour :  that 
affection  which  leads  us  out  of  ourselves,  makes  us  re- 
gardless of  our  own  interest,  and  substitute  that  of  an- 
other in  its  stead."  Whether  then  there  be  any  peculiar 
competition  and  contrariety  in  this  case,  shall  now  be 
considered. 

Self-love  and  interestedness  was  stated  to  consist  in  oi 
be  an  affection  to  ourselves,  a  regard  to  our  own  private 
good:  it  is  therefore  distinct  from  benevolence,  which  is 
an  affection  to  the  good  of  our  fellow  creatures.  But 
that  benevolence  is  distinct  from,  that  is,  not  the  same 
thing  with  self-love,  is  no  reason  for  it  being  looked  up- 
on with  any  peculiar  suspicion  ;  because  every  principle 
whatever,  by  means  of  which  self-love  is  gratified,  is  dis- 
tinct from  it :  and  all  things  which  are  distinct  from  each 
other  are  equally  so.  A  man  has  an  affection  or  aver- 
sion to  another  :  that  one  of  these  tends  to,  and  is  grati- 
fied by  doing  good,  that  the  other  tends  to,  and  is  grati- 
fied by  doing  harm,  does  not  in  the  least  alter  the  respect 
which  either  one  or  the  other  of  these  inward  feelings 
has  to  self-love.  We  use  the  word  property  so  as  to 
exclude  any  other  persons  having  an  interest  in  that  of 
which  we  say  a  particular  man  has  the  property.  And 
we  often  use  the  word  selfish  so  as  to  exclude  in  the  same 


S^R.  OUR  NEIGHBOUR.  131 

manner  all  regards  to  the  good  of  others.  But  the  cases 
are  not  parallel:  for  though  that  exclusion  is  really  part 
of  the  idea  of  property;  yet  such  positive  exclusion,  or 
bringing  this  peculiar  disregard  to  the  good  of  othei^  into 
the  idea  of  self-love,  is  in  reality  adding  to  the  idea,  or 
changing  it  from  what  it  was  before  stated  to  consist  in, 
namely,  in  an  affection  to  ourselves.*  This  being  the 
whole  idea  of  self-love,  it  can  no  otherwise  exclude  good- 
will or  love  of  others,  than  merely  by  not  including  it, 
no  otherwise,  than  it  excludes  love  of  arts  or  of  reputa- 
tion, or  of  any  thing  else.  Neither  on  the  other  hand 
does  benevoknce,  any  more  than  love  of  arts  or  of  repu- 
tation, exclude  self-love.  Love  of  our  neighbour  then 
has  just  the  same  respect  to,  is  no  more  distant  from 
S!.lf-love,  than  hatred  of  our  neighbour,  or  than  love  or 
hatred  of  any  thing  else.  Thus  the  principles,  from 
which  men  rush  upon  ce  rtain  ruin  for  the  destruction  of 
an  enemy,  and  for  the  preservation  of  a  friend,  have  the 
same  respect  to  the  private  affection,  and  are  equally 
interested,  or  equally  disinterested:  and  it  is  of  no  avail, 
wh«  thi  r  they  are  said  to  be  one  or  the  other.  Therefore 
to  those  who  are  shocked  to  hear  virtue  spoken  of  as  disin- 
terested, it  may  be  allowed  that  it  is  indeed  absurd  to  speak 
thus  of  it;  unless  hatred,  several  particular  instances  of 
vice,  and  all  the  common  affections  and  aversions  in  man- 
kind, are  acknowledged  to  be  disinterested  too.  Is  there 
any  less  inconsistence,  between  the  love  of  inanimate 
things,  or  of  creatures  merely  sensitive,  and  self-love; 
than  between  self-love  and  the  love  of  our  neighbour  ? 
Is  desire  of  and  delight  in  the  happiness  of  another  any 
more  a  diminution  of  self-love,  than  desire  of  and  delight 
in  the  esteem  of  another?  They  are  both  equally  desire 
of  and  delight  in  somewhat  external  to  ourselves:  either 
both  or  neither  are  so.  The  object  of  self-love  is  expressed 
in  the  term  self:  and  every  appetite  of  sense,  and  every 
particular  affection  of  the  heart,  are  equally  interested  or 
disinterested,  because  the  objects  of  them  all  are  equally 
self  or  somewhat  else.  Whatever  ridicule  therefore  the 
mention  of  a  disinterested  principle  or  action  may  be 
iupposed  to  lie  op*  n  to,  must,  upon  the  matter  being 

•  p.  1^7. 


132  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  [Ser.  XI. 

thus  stated,  relate  to  ambition,  and  e\ery  appetite  and 
particular  affection,  as  much  as  to  benevolence.  And 
indeed  all  the  ridicule,  and  all  the  grave  perplexit}',  of 
whict  this  subject  hath  had  its  fall  share,  is  merely  from 
words.  The  most  intehigible  way  of  speaking  of  it  seems 
to  be  this:  that  self-love  and  the  actions  done  in  con- 
sequence of  it  (for  these  will  presently  appear  to  be  the 
same  as  to  this  question)  are  interested;  that  particular 
affections  towards  external  objects,  and  the  actions  done 
in  consequence  of  those  affections,  are  not  so.  But  every 
one  is  at  liberty  to  use  words  as  he  pleases.  All  that  is 
here  insisted  upon  is,  that  ambition,  revenge,  benevo- 
lence, all  particular  passions  whatever,  and  the  actions 
they  produce,  are  equally  interested  or  disinterested. 

Thus  it  appears  that  there  is  no  peculiar  contrariety 
between  self-love  and  benevolence;  no  greater  competi- 
tion between  these,  than  between  any  other  particular 
affections  and  self-love.  This  relates  to  the  affections 
themselves.  Let  us  now  see  whether  there  be  any  pe- 
cuhar  contrariety  between  the  respective  courses  of  life 
which  these  affections  lead  to;  whether  there  be  any 
greater  competition  between  the  pursuit  of  private  and 
of  public  good,  than  between  any  other  particular  pur- 
suits and  that  of  private  good. 

There  seems  no  other  reason  to  suspect  that  there  is 
any  such  peculiar  contrariety,  but  only  that  the  courses 
of  action  which  benevolence  leads  to,  has  a  more  direct 
tendency  to  promote  the  good  of  others,  than  that  course 
of  action  which  love  of  reputation  suppose,  or  any  other 
particular  affection  leads  to.  But  that  any  affection 
tends  to  the  happiness  of  another,  does  not  hinder  its 
tending  to  one's  own  happiness  too.  That  others  enjoy 
the  benefit  of  the  air  and  the  light  of  the  sun,  does  not 
hinder  but  that  these  are  as  much  one's  own  private 
advantage  now,  as  they  would  be  if  we  had  the  property 
of  them  exclusive  of  all  others.  So  a  pursuit  which 
tends  to  promote  the  good  of  another,  yet  may  have  as 
great  tendency  to  promote  private  interest,  as  a  pursuit 
which  does  not  tend  to  the  good  of  another  at  all,  or 
which  is  mischievous  to  him.  All  particular  affections 
whatever,  resentment,  benevolence,  love  of  arts,  equally 


Ser.  XL]  OUR  NEIGHBOUR.  133 

lead  to  a  course  of  action  for  their  own  gratification,  i.e, 
the  gratification  of  ourselves;  and  the  gratification  of 
each  gives  delight:  so  far  then  it  is  manifest  they  have 
all  the  same  respect  to  private  interest.  Now  take  into 
consideration  further,  concerning  these  three  pursuits, 
that  the  end  of  the  first  is  the  harm,  of  the  second,  the 
good  of  another,  of  the  last,  somewhat  indifferent;  and 
is  there  any  necessity,  that  these  additional  considerations 
should  alter  the  respect,  which  we  before  saw  these  three 
pursuits,  had  to  private  interest;  or  render  any  one  of 
them  less  conducive  to  it,  than  any  other?  Thus  one 
man's  affection  is  to  honour  as  his  end;  in  order  to  ob- 
tain which  he  thinks  no  pains  too  great.  Suppose 
another,  with  such  a  singularity  of  mind,  as  to  have  the 
same  affection  to  public  good  as  his  end,  which  he 
endeavours  with  the  same  labour  to  obtain.  In  case  of 
success,  surely  the  man  of  benevolence  hath  as  great 
enjoyment  as  the  man  of  ambition;  they  both  equally 
having  the  end  of  their  affections,  in  the  same  degree, 
tended  to:  but  in  case  of  disappointment,  the  benevolent 
man  has  clearly  the  advantage;  since  endeavouring  to 
do  good  considered  as  a  virtuous  pursuit,  is  gratified  by 
its  own  consciousness,  i.e.  is  in  a  degree  its  own  reward. 

And  as  to  these  two,  or  benevolence  and  any  otlu  r 
particular  passions  whatever,  considered  in  a  further 
view,  as  forming  a  general  temper,  which  more  or  less 
disposes  us  for  enjoyment  of  all  the  common  blessings 
of  life,  distinct  from  their  own  gratification :  is  benevo- 
lence less  the  temper  of  tranciuillity  and  freedom  than 
ambition  or  covetousncss.^  Does  the  benevolent  man 
appear  less  easy  with  himself,  from  his  love  to  his  neigh- 
bour.^ Does  he  less  relish  his  being P  Is  there  an\ 
peculiar  gloom  seated  on  his  face?  Is  his  mind  less 
open  to  entertainment,  to  any  particular  gratification? 
Nothing  is  more  manifest,  than  that  being  in  good 
humour,  which  is  benevolence  whilst  it  lasts,  is  itself 
the  temper  of  satisfaction  and  enjoyment. 

Suppose  then  a  man  sitting  down  to  consider  how  he 
might  become  most  easy  to  himself,  and  attain  the 
greatest  pleasure  he  could;  all  that  which  is  liis  real 
natural  happiness.    This  can  only  consist  in  the  enjoy- 


134  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  [Ser.  XI. 

ment  of  those  objects,  which  are  by  nature  adapted  to 
our  several  faculties.  These  particular  enjoyments  make 
up  the  sum  total  of  our  happiness:  and  they  are  supposed 
to  arise  from  riches,  honours,  and  the  gratification  of 
sensual  appetites:  be  it  so:  yet  none  profess  themselves 
so  completely  happy  in  these  enjoyments,  but  that  there 
is  room  left  in  the  mind  of  others,  if  they  were  presented 
to  them:  nay,  these,  as  much  as  they  engage  us,  are  not 
thought  so  high,  but  that  human  nature  is  capable  even 
of  greater.  Now  there  have  been  persons  in  all  ages, 
who  have  professed  that  they  found  satisfaction  in  the 
exercise  of  charity,  in  the  love  of  their  neighbour,  in 
endeavouring  to  promote  the  happiness  of  all  they  had 
to  do  with,  and  in  the  pursuit  of  what  is  just,  and  right, 
and  good,  as  the  general  bent  of  their  mind,  and  end  of 
their  life;  and  that  doing  an  action  of  baseness  or  cruelty, 
would  be  as  great  violence  to  their  self,  as  much  break- 
ing in  upon  their  nature,  as  any  external  force.  Persons 
of  this  character  would  add,  if  they  might  be  heard,  that 
they  consider  themselves  as  acting  in  the  view  of  an  in- 
finite Being,  who  is  in  a  much  higher  sense  the  object  of 
reverence  and  of  love,  than  all  the  world  besides ;  and 
therefore  they  could  have  no  more  enjoyment  from  a 
wicked  action  done  under  his  eye,  than  the  persons  to 
whom  they  are  making  their  apology  could,  if  all  man- 
kind v/ere  the  spectators  of  it;  and  that  the  satisfaction 
of  approving  themselves  to  his  unerring  judgment,  to 
whom  they  thus  refer  all  their  actions,  is  a  more  con- 
tinued settled  satisfaction  than  any  this  world  can  afford; 
as  also  that  they  have,  no  less  than  others,  a  mind  free 
and  open  to  all  the  common  innocent  gratifications  of  it, 
such  as  they  are.  And  if  we  go  no  further,  does  there 
appear  any  absurdity  in  thisP  Will  any  one  take  upon 
him  to  say,  that  a  man  cannot  find  his  account  in  this 
general  course  of  life,  as  much  as  in  the  most  unbounded 
ambition,  and  the  excesses  of  pleasure?  Or  that  such  a 
person  has  not  consulted  so  well  for  himself,  for  the 
satisfaction  and  peace  of  his  own  mind,  as  the  ambitious 
or  dissolute  man.^  And  though  the  consideration,  that 
God  himself  will  in  the  end  justify  their  taste,  and  sup- 
port their  cause,  is  not  formally  to  be  insisted  upon  here; 


Ser,  XL]  OUR  NEIGHBOUR.  135 

yet  thus  much  comes  in,  that  all  enjoyments  whatever 
are  much  more  clear  and  unmixed  from  the  assurance 
that  they  will  end  well.  Is  it  certain  then  that  there  is 
nothing  in  these  pretensions  to  happiness?  especially 
when  there  are  not  wanting  persons,  who  have  supported 
themselves  with  satisfactions  of  this  kind  in  sickness, 
poverty,  disgrace,  and  in  the  very  pangs  of  death ;  where- 
as it  is  manifest  all  other  enjoyments  fail  in  these  cir- 
cumstances. This  surely  looks  suspicious  of  ha^'inii 
somewhat  in  it.  Self-love  methinks  should  be  alarmed. 
May  she  not  possibly  pass  over  greater  pleasures,  than 
those  she  is  so  wholly  taken  up  with.^^ 

The  short  of  the  matter  is  no  more  than  this.  Hap- 
piness consists  in  the  gratification  of  certain  affections, 
appetites,  passions,  with  objects  which  are  by  nature 
adapted  to  them.  Self-love  may  indeed  set  us  on  work 
to  gratify  these;  but  happiness  or  enjoyment  has  no 
immediate  connexion  with  self-love,  but  arises  from  such 
gratification  alone.  Love  of  our  neighbour  is  one  of 
those  affections.  This,  considered  as  a  virtuous  princip/e, 
is  gratified  by  a  consciousness  of  endeavouring  to  promote 
the  good  of  others;  but  considered  as  natural  affection, 
its  gratification  consists  in  the  actual  accomplishment  of 
this  endeavour.  Now  indulgence  or  gratification  of  this 
affection,  whether  in  that  consciousness,  or  this  accom- 
plishment, has  the  same  respect  to  interest,  as  indulgence 
of  any  other  affection ;  they  equally  proceed  from  or  do 
not  proceed  from  self-love,  they  equally  include  or 
equally  exclude  this  principle.  Thus  it  appears,  that 
benevolence  and  the  pursuits  of  public  good  hath  at  least  as 
great  respect  to  self  -love  and  the  pursuits  of  private  good, 
as  any  other  particular  passions,  and  their  respective 
pursuits. 

Neither  is  covctousness,  whether  as  a  temper  or  pur- 
suit, any  exception  to  this.  For  if  by  covctousness  is 
meant  the  desire  and  pursuit  of  riches  for  ihv'w  own  sake, 
without  any  regard  to,  or  consideration  of,  the  uses  of 
them;  this  hath  as  little  to  do  with  self-love,  as  benevo- 
lence hath.  Hut  by  this  word  is  usually  meant,  not  such 
madness  and  total  distraction  of  mind,  but  iuunoderate 
affection  to  and  pursuit  of  riches  as  possessions  in  order 


136 


UPON  THE  LOVE  OF 


Ser.  XI/ 


to  some  further  end;  namely,  satisfaction,  interest,  or 
good.  This  therefore  is  not  a  particular  affection,  or 
particular  pursuit,  but  it  is  the  general  principle  of  self- 
love,  and  the  general  pursuit  of  our  own  interest;  for 
which  reason,  the  word  selfish  is  by  every  one  appro- 
priated to  this  temper  and  pursuit.  Now  as  it  is  ridicul- 
ous to  assert,  that  self-love  and  the  love  of  our  neighbour 
are  the  same:  so  neither  is  it  asserted,  that  following 
these  different  affections  hath  the  same  tendency  and 
respect  to  our  own  interest.  The  comparison  is  not  be  - 
tween self-love  and  the  love  of  our  neighbour;  between 
pursuit  of  our  own  interest,  and  the  interest  of  others : 
but  between  the  several  particular  affections  in  human 
nature  towards  external  objects,  as  one  part  of  the  com- 
parison; and  the  one  particular  affection  to  the  good  of  - 
our  neighbour,  as  the  other  part  of  it:  and  it  has  been 
shown,  that  all  these  have  the  same  respect  to  self-love 
and  private  interest. 

There  is  indeed  frequently  an  inconsistence  or  inter- 
fering between  self-love  or  private  interest,  and  the 
several  particular  appetites,  passions,  affections,  or  the 
pursuits  they  lead  to.  But  this  competition  or  interfer- 
ing is  merely  accidental;  and  happens  much  oftener  be- 
tween pride,  revenge,  sensual  gratifications,  and  private 
interest,  than  between  private  interest  and  benevolence. 
For  nothing  is  more  common,  than  to  see  men  give 
themselves  up  to  a  passion  or  an  affection  to  their  known 
prejudice  and  ruin,  and  in  direct  contradiction  to  mani- 
fest and  real  interest,  and  the  loudest  calls  of  self-love: 
whereas  the  seeming  competitions  and  interfering,  be- 
tween benevolence  and  private  interest,  relate  much 
more  to  the  materials  or  means  of  enjoyment,  than  ta 
enjoyment  itself  There  is  often  an  interfering  in  the 
former,  when  there  is  none  in  the  latter.  Thus  as  to 
riches:  so  much  money  as  a  man  gives  away,  so  much: 
less  will  remain  in  his  possession.  Here  is  a  real  interfer- 
ing. But  though  a  man  cannot  possibly  give  without 
lessening  his  fortune,  yet  there  are  multitudes  might  give 
without  lessening  their  own  enjoyment;  because  they 
may  have  more  than  tliey  can  turn  to  any  real  use  or 
advantage  to  themselves.    Thus,  the  more  thouo;ht  and 


S^K.  XI.]  OUR  NEIGHBOUR.  137 

time  any  one  employs  about  the  interests  and  good  of 
others,  he  must  necessarily  have  less  to  attend  his  own; 
but  he  may  have  so  ready  and  large  a  supply  of  his  own 
wants,  that  such  thought  might  be  really  useless  to  him- 
self, tiiough  of  great  service  and  assistance  to  others. 

The  general  mistake,  that  there  is  some  greater  incon- 
sistence between  endeavouring  to  promote  the  good  of 
another  and  self-interest,  than  between  self-interest  and 
pursuing  any  thing  else,  seems,  as  hath  already  been 
hinted,  to  arise  from  our  notions  of  property;  and  to  be 
carri  .d  on  by  this  property's  being  supposed  to  be  itself 
our  happiness  or  good.  People  are  so  very  much  taken 
up  with  this  one  subject,  that  they  seem  from  it  to  have 
formed  a  general  way  of  thinking,  which  they  apply  to 
other  things  that  they  have  nothing  to  do  with.  Hence^ 
in  a  confused  and  sHght  way,  it  might  w^ell  be  taken  for 
granted,  that  another's  having  no  interest  in  an  affection,. 
(i.  e.  his  good  not  being  the  object  of  it,)  renders,  as  one 
may  speak,  the  proprietor's  interest  in  it  greater;  and 
that  if  another  had  an  interest  in  it,  this  would  render 
his  less,  or  occasion  that  such  affection  could  not  be  so 
friendly  to  self-love,  or  conducive  to  private  good,  as  an 
affection  or  pursuit  which  has  not  a  regard  to  the  good 
of  another.  This,  I  say,  might  be  taken  for  granted, 
whilst  it  was  not  attended  to,  that  the  object  of  every 
particular  affection  is  equally  somewhat  external  to  our- 
selves; and  whether  it  be  the  good  of  another  person,  or 
whether  it  be  any  other  external  thing,  makes  no  altera- 
tion with  regard  to  its  being  one's  own  aff'ection,  and  the 
gratification  of  it  one's  own  private  enjoyment.  And  so 
far  as  it  is  taken  for  granted,  that  barely  having  the 
means  and  materials  of  enjoyment  is  what  constitutes 
interest  and  happiness;  that  our  interest  or  good  consists 
in  possessions  themselves,  in  having  the  property  of 
riches,  houses,  lands,  gardens,  not  in  the  enjoyment  of 
them;  so  far  it  will  even  more  strongly  be  taken  for 
granted,  in  the  way  already  explained,  that  an  aff'ection's 
conducing  to  the  good  of  another,  must  even  necessarily 
occasion  it  to  conduce  less  to  private  good,  if  not  to  be 
positively  detrimental  to  it.  For,  if  property  and  hapj)i- 
ness  are  one  and  the  same  thing,  as  by  increasing  the 


138  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  [Ser.  XI. 

property  of  another,  you  lessen  your  own  property,  so  by 
promoting  the  happiness  of  another,  you  must  lessen 
your  own  happiness.  But  Avhatever  occasion  the  mis- 
take, I  hope  it  has  been  fully  proved  to  be  one;  as  it  has 
been  proved,  that  there  is  no  peculiar  rivaiship  or  com- 
petition between  self-love  and  benevolence;  that  as 
there  may  be  a  competition  between  these  two,  so  there 
may  also  between  any  particular  affection  whatever  and 
self-love;  that  every  particular  affection,  benevolence 
among  the  rest,  is  subservient  to  self-love,  by  being  the 
instrument  of  private  enjoyment;  and  that  in  one  re.spect 
benevolence  contributes  more  to  private  interest,  i.  e.  en- 
joyment or  satisfaction,  than  any  other  of  the  particular 
common  affections,  as  it  is  in  a  degree  its  own  gratifi- 
cation. 

And  to  all  these  things  may  be  added,  that  religion, 
from  whence  arises  our  strongest  obligation  to  benevo- 
l.  nce,  is  so  far  from  disowning  the  principle  of  self-love, 
that  it  often  addresses  itself  to  that  very  principle,  and 
always  to  the  mind  in  that  state  when  reason  presides: 
and  there  can  no  access  be  had  to  the  understanding, 
but  by  convincing  men,  that  the  course  of  life  we  would 
persuade  them  to  is  not  contrary  to  their  interest.  It 
may  be  allowed,  without  any  prejudice  to  the  cause 
of  virtue  and  religion,  that  our  ideas  of  happiness  and 
misery  are  of  all  our  ideas  the  nearest  and  most  impor- 
tant to  us;  that  they  will,  nay,  if  you  please,  that  they 
ought  to  prevail  over  those  of  order,  and  beauty,  and 
harmony,  and  proportion,  if  there  should  ever  be,  as  it  is 
impossible  there  ever  should  be,  any  inconsistence  be- 
tween them:  though  these  last,  too,  as  expressing  the 
fitness  of  actions,  are  real  as  truth  itself  Let  it  be  al- 
lowed, though  virtue  or  moral  rectitude  does  indeed  con- 
sist in  affection  to  and  pursuit  of  what  is  right  and  good, 
as  such ;  yet,  that  when  we  sit  down  in  a  cool  hour,  we 
can  neither  justify  to  ourselves  this  or  any  other  pursuit, 
till  we  are  convinced  that  it  will  be  for  our  happiness,  or 
at  least  not  contrary  to  it. 

Common  reason  and  humanity,  will  have  some  influ- 
ence upon  mankind,  whatever  becomes  of  speculations; 
but,  so  far  as  tlie  interests  of  virtue  depend  upon  tlie 


Ser.  XI.]  NEIGHBOUR.  139 

theory  of  it  being  secured  from  open  scorn,  so  far  its 
very  being  in  the  world  depends  upon  its  appearing  to 
have  no  contrariety  to  private  interest  and  self-love. 
The  foregoing  observations,  tlierefore,  it  is  hoped,  may 
have  gained  a  little  ground  in  favour  of  the  precept  be- 
fore us  ;  the  particulaj'  explanation  of  which  shall  be  the 
subject  of  the  next  discourse. 

I  will  conclude  at  present,  with  observing  the  peculiar 
obligation  which  we  are  under  to  virtue  and  religion,  as 
enforced  in  t\v^  verses  following  the  text,  in  the  epistle 
for  the  day,  from  our  Saviour's  coming  into  the  world. 
The  night  is  far  spent,  the  day  is  at  hand;  let  us  therefore 
cast  off  the  works  of  darkness,  and  let  vs  put  on  the  armour 
of  tight,  (fee.  The  meaning  and  force  of  which  exhorta- 
tion is,  that  Christianity  lays  us  under  new  obligations 
to  a  good  life,  as  by  it  the  will  of  God  is  more  clearly 
revealed,  and  as  it  aflbrds  additional  motives  to  the  prac- 
tice of  it,  over  and  above  those  which  arise  out  of  the 
nature  of  virtue  and  vice;  1  might  add,  as  our  Saviour 
has  set  us  a  perfect  example  of  goodness  in  our  own  na- 
ture. Now  love  and  charity  is  plainly  the  thing  in  which 
he  hath  placed  his  religion;  in  which,  therefore,  as  we 
have  any  pretence  to  the  name  of  Christians,  we  must 
place  ours.  He  hath  at  once  enjoined  it  upon  us  by 
way  of  command  with  peculiar  force;  and  by  his  exam- 
ple, as  having  undertaken  the  work  of  our  salvation  out 
of  pure  love  and  good- will  to  mankind.  The  endeavour 
to  set  home  this  example  upon  our  minds  is  a  very  pro- 
per employment  of  this  season,  which  is  bringing  on  the 
festival  of  his  birth:  which  as  it  may  teach  us  many  ex- 
cellent lessons  of  humihty,  resignation,  and  obedience  to 
the  will  of  God;  so  there  is  none  it  recommends  with 
greater  authority,  force,  and  advantage,  than  this  of  love 
and  charity;  since  it  was  for  lis  men,  and  for  our  salva- 
tion, that  he  came  doicn  from  heaven,  and  was  incarnate, 
and  was  made  man ;  that  he  might  teach  us  our  duty,  and 
more  especially  that  he  might  enforce  the  practice  of  it, 
reform  mankind,  and  finally  bring  us  to  that  eternal  saU 
vatiouy  of  which  he  is  the  Author  to  all  those  that  obey  hiiju 


140 


UPON  THE  LOVE  OF 


SERMON  XIL 

UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  OUR  NEIGHBOUR. 

And  if  there  be  any  other  commandment^  it  is  briefly  comprehended 
in  this  saying^  namely.  Thou  shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself. — 
Rom.  xiii.  9. 

Having  already  removed  the  prejudices  against  public 
spirit,  or  the  love  of  our  neighbour,  on  the  side  of  private 
interest  and  self-love;  I  proceed  to  the  particular  expla- 
nation of  the  precept  before  us,  by  showing.  Who  is  our 
neighbour :  In  what  sense  we  are  required  to  lave  him  a^ 
ourselves :  The  influence  such  love  would  have  upon  our 
behaviour  in  life :  and  lastly,  How  this  commandment  com-' 
prehends  in  it  all  others. 

I.  The  objects  and  due  extent  of  this  affection  will  be 
understood  by  attending  to  the  nature  of  it,  and  to  the 
nature  and  circumstances  of  mankind  in  this  world.  The 
love  of  our  neighbour  is  the  same  with  charity,  benevo- 
lence, or  good-will:  it  is  an  affection  to  the  good  and 
happiness  of  our  fellow  creatures.  This  implies  in  it  a 
disposition  to  produce  happiness:  and  this  is  the  simple 
notion  of  goodness,  which  appears  so  amiable  wherever 
we  meet  with  it.  From  hence  it  is  easy  to  see,  that  the 
perfection  of  goodness  consists  in  love  to  the  whole  uni- 
verse.   This  is  the  perfection  of  Almighty  God. 

But  as  man  is  so  much  limited  in  his  capacity,  as  so 
small  a  part  of  the  creation  comes  under  his  notice  and 
influence,  and  as  we  are  not  used  to  consider  things  in 
so  general  a  way;  it  is  not  to  be  thought  of,  that  the 
universe  should  be  the  object  of  benevolence  to  such 
creatures  as  we  are.  Thus  in  that  precept  of  our  Savi- 
our, Be  ye  perfect y  even  as  your  Father  which  is  in  heaven 
is  perfect*  the  perfection  of  the  divine  goodness  is  pro- 
posed to  our  imitation  as  it  is  promiscuous,  and  extends 
to  the  evil  as  well  as  the  good;  not  as  it  is  absolutely 
universal,  imitation  of  it  in  this  respect  being  plainly 
beyond  us.    The  object  is  too  vast.    For  this  reason 

*  MatL  V.  48. 


6er.  XII.l  OUR  NEIGHBOUR.  141 

moral  writers  also  have  sabstituted  a  less  general  object 
for  our  benevolence,  mankind.  But  this  likewise  is  an 
object  too  general,  and  very  much  out  of  our  view. 
Therefore  persons  more  practical  have,  instead  of  man- 
kind, put  our  country;  and  this  is  what  we  call  a  public 
spirit;  which, in  men  of  public  stations  is  the  character 
of  a  patriot.  But  this  is  speaking  to  the  upper  part  of 
the  world.  Kingdoms  and  governments  are  large;  and 
the  sphere  of  action  of  far  the  greatest  part  of  mankind 
is  much  narrower  than  the  government  they  live  under: 
or,  however,  common  men  do  not  consider  their  actions 
as  affecting  the  whole  community  of  which  they  are 
members.  There  plainly  is  wanting  a  less  general  and 
nearer  object  of  benevolence  for  the  bulk  of  men,  than 
that  of  their  country.  Therefore  the  scripture,  not  being 
a  book  of  theory  and  speculation,  but  a  plain  rule  of  life 
for  mankind,  has  with  the  utmost  possible  propriety  put 
the  principle  of  virtue  upon  the  love  of  our  neighbour; 
which  is  that  part  of  the  universe,  that  part  of  mankind, 
that  part  of  our  country,  which  comes  under  our  imme- 
diate notice,  acquaintance,  and  influence,  and  with  which 
we  have  to  do. 

This  is  plainly  the  true  account  or  reason,  why  our 
Saviour  places  the  principle  of  virtue  in  the  love  of  our 
neighbour;  and  the  account  itself  shows  who  are  compre- 
hended under  that  relation. 

II.  Let  us  now  consider  in  what  sense  we  are  com- 
manded to  love  our  neighbour  as  ourselves. 

This  precept,  in  its  first  delivery  by  our  Saviour,  is 
thus  introduced:  TJiou  shall  love  the  Lord  thy  God  with 
all  thine  hearty  with  all  thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  strength; 
and  thy  neighbour  as  thyself.  These  very  different  man- 
ners of  expression  do  not  lead  our  thoughts  to  the  same 
measure  or  degree  of  love,  common  to  both  objects;  but 
to  one,  peculiar  to  each.  Supposing  then,  which  is  to 
be  supposed,  a  distinct  meaning  and  propriety  in  the 
words,  as  thyself;  the  precept  we  are  considering  will 
admit  of  any  of  these  senses:  that  we  bear  the  same  kind 
of  affection  to  our  neighbour,  as  we  do  to  ourselves:  or, 
tliat  the  love  we  bear  to  our  neighbour  should  have  some 
certain  proportion  or  other  to  self-love:  or,  lastly,  that  it 


142  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  [Ser.  XII. 

should  bear  the  particular  proportion  of  equality y  that  it 
he  in  the  same  degree. 

First,  The  precept  may  be  understood  as  requiring 
only,  that  we  have  the  same  kind  of  affection  to  our 
fellow  creatures,  as  to  ourselves:  that,  as  every  man  has 
the  principle  of  self-love,  which  disposes  him  to  avoid 
misery,  and  consult  his  own  happiness;  so  we  should 
cultivate  the  affection  of  good-will  to  our  neighbour,  and 
that  it  should  influence  us  to  have  the  same  kind  of 
regard  to  him.  This  at  least  must  be  commanded:  and 
this  will  not  only  prevent  our  being  injurious  to  him,  but 
will  also  put  us  upon  promoting  his  good.  There  are 
blesshigs  in  life,  which  we  share  in  common  with  others; 
peace,  plenty,  freedom,  healthful  seasons.  But  real 
benevolence  to  our  fellow  creatures  would  give  us  the 
notion  of  a  common  interest  in  a  stricter  sense:  for  in 
the  degree  we  love  another,  his  interest,  his  joys  and 
sorrows,  are  our  own.  It  is  from  self-love  that  we  form 
the  notion  of  private  good,  and  consider  it  as  our  own: 
love  of  our  neighbour  would  teach  us  thus  to  appropriate 
to  ourselves  his  good  and  welfare,  to  consider  ourselves 
as  having  a  real  share  in  his  happiness.  Thus  the  prin- 
ciple of  benevolence  would  be  an  advocate  within  our 
own  breasts,  to  take  care  of  the  interests  of  our  fellow 
creatures  in  all  the  interfering  and  competitions  which 
cannot  but  be,  from  the  imperfection  of  our  nature,  and 
the  state  we  are  in.  It  would  likewise,  in  some  measure, 
lessen  that  interfering;  and  hinder  men  from  forming  so 
strong  a  notion  of  private  good,  exclusive  of  the  good  of 
others,  as  we  commonly  do.  Thus,  as  the  private  affec- 
tion makes  us  in  a  peculiar  manner  sensible  of  humanity, 
justice  or  injustice,  when  exercised  towards  ourselves; 
love  of  our  neighbour  would  give  us  the  same  kind  of 
sensibility  in  his  behalf.  This  would  be  the  greatest 
security  of  our  uniform  obedience  to  that  most  equitable 
rule ;  Whatsoever  ye  would  that  men  should  do  unto  you, 
do  ye  even  so  unto  them. 

All  this  is  indeed  no  more  than  that  we  should  have  a 
real  love  to  our  neighbour:  but  then,  which  is  to  be  ob- 
served, the  words,  as  thyself,  express  this  in  the  most 
distinct  manner,  and  determine  the  precept  to  relate  to 


S^JL  XII-] 


OUR  NEIGHBOUR. 


the  affection  itself.  The  advantage,  which  this  princi})le 
01  benevolence  has  over  other  remote  considerations,  is. 
that  it  is  itself  the  temper  of  virtue:  and  likewise,  that  it 
is  the  chief,  nay  the  only  effectual  security  of  our  per- 
forming the  several  offices  of  kindness  we  owe  to  our 
fellow  creatures.  When  from  distant  considerations 
men  resolve  upon  any  thing  to  which  they  have  no  liking, 
or  perhaps  an  averseness,  they  are  perpetually  finding 
out  evasions  and  excuses;  which  need  never  be  wanting, 
if  people  look  for  them:  and  they  equivocate  with  them- 
selves in  the  plainest  cases  in  the  world.  This  may  be 
in  respect  to  single  determinate  acts  of  virtue:  but  it 
comes  in  much  more,  where  the  obligation  is  to  a  gene- 
ral course  of  behaviour;  and  most  of  all,  if  it  be  such  as 
cannot  be  reduced  to  fixed  determinate  rules.  This 
observation  may  account  for  the  diversity  of  the  expres- 
sion, in  that  known  passage  of  the  prophet  Micah:  to  do 
justly,  and  to  love  mercy.  A  man's  heart  must  be  formed 
to  humanity  and  benevolence,  he  must  love  mercy,  other- 
wise he  will  not  act  mercifully  in  any  settled  course  of 
behaviour.  As  consideration  of  the  future  sanctions  of 
religion  is  our  only  security  of  persevering  in  our  duty, 
in  cases  of  great  temptations:  so  to  get  our  heart  and 
temper  formed  to  a  love  and  liking  of  what  is  good,  is 
absolutely  necessary  in  order  to  our  behaving  rightly  in 
the  familiar  and  daily  intercourses  amongst  mankind. 

Secondly,  The  precept  before  us  may  be  und(  rstood 
to  require,  that  we  love  our  neighbour  in  some  certain 
proportion  or  other,  accordhuj  as  we  love  ourselves. 
And  indeed  a  man's  character  cannot  be  determined  by 
the  love  he  bears  to  his  neighbour,  considered  absolutely: 
but  the  proportion  which  tliis  bears  to  self-love,  whethi  r 
it  be  attended  to  or  not,  is  the  chief  thing  which  forms 
the  character,  and  influences  the  actions.  For,  as  the 
form  of  the  body  is  a  composition  of  various  parts;  so 
likewise  our  inward  structure  is  not  simple  or  uniform, 
but  a  composition  of  various  passions,  appetites,  aft'ec- 
tions,  together  with  rationality  ;  including  in  this  last 
both  the  discernment  of  what  is  right,  and  a  dis|)ositioii 
to  regulate  ourselves  by  it.  There  is  greater  variety  of 
parts  in  what  we  call  a  character,  than  there  are  features 


144  UPON  THE  LOVH,  OF  [Ser.  XII. 

in  a  face:  and  the  morality  of  that  is  no  more  determined 
by  one  part,  than  the  beauty  or  deformity  of  this  is  by 
one  single  feature :  each  is  to  be  judged  of  by  all  the 
parts  or  features,  not  taken  singly,  but  together.  In  the 
inward  frame  the  various  passions,  appetites,  affections, 
stand  in  different  respects  to  each  other.  The  principles 
in  our  mind  may  be  contradictory,  or  checks  and  allays 
only,  or  incentives  and  assistants  to  each  other.  And 
principles,  which  in  their  nature  have  no  kind  of  con- 
trariety or  affinity,  may  yet  accidentally  be  each  other's 
allays  or  incentives. 

From  hence  it  comes  to  pass,  that  though  we  were 
able  to  look  into  the  inward  contexture  of  the  heart,  and 
see  with  the  greatest  exactness  in  what  degree  any  one 
principle  is  in  a  particular  man  ;  we  could  not  from 
thence  determine,  how  far  that  principle  would  go  to- 
wards forming  the  character,  or  what  infiutnce  it  would 
have  upon  the  actions,  unless  we  could  likewise  discern 
what  other  principles  prevailed  in  him,  and  see  the  pro- 
portion which  that  one  bears  to  the  others.  Thus,  though 
two  men  should  have  the  affection  of  compassion  in  the 
same  degree  exactly  :  yet  one  may  have  the  principle 
of  resentment,  or  of  ambition  so  strong  in  him,  as  to 
prevail  over  that  of  compassion,  and  prevent  its  having 
any  influence  upon  his  actions ;  so  that  he  may  deserve 
the  character  of  an  hard  or  cruel  man:  w^hereas  the  other 
having  compassion  in  just  the  same  degree  only,  yet 
having  resentment  or  ambition  in  a  lower  degree,  his 
compassion  may  prevail  over  them,  so  as  to  influence  his 
actions,  and  to  denominate  his  temper  compassionate. 
So  that,  how  strange  soever  it  may  appear  to  people  who 
do  not  attend  to  the  thing,  yet  it  is  quite  manifest,  that, 
when  we  say  one  man  is  more  resenting  or  compassionate 
than  another,  this  does  not  necessarily  imply  that  one 
has  the  principle  of  resentment  or  of  compassion  stronger 
ihan  the  other.  For  if  the  proportion,  which  resentment 
or  compassion  bears  to  other  inward  principles,  is  greater 
in  one  than  in  the  other;  this  is  itself  sufficient  to  deno- 
minate one  more  resenting  or  compassionate  than  the 
other. 

Further,  the  whole  system,  as  I  may  speak,  of  aflfec- 


Ser.  XII.]  OUR  NEIGHBOUR.  145 

tions  (including  rationality),  which  constitute  the  heart, 
as  this  word  is  used  in  Scripture  and  on  moral  subjects, 
are  each  and  all  of  them  stronger  in  some  than  in  others. 
Now  the  proportion  which  the  two  general  affections, 
benevolence  and  self-love,  bear  to  each  other,  according 
to  this  interpretation  of  the  text,  denominates  men's 
character  as  to  virtue.  Suppose  then  one  man  to  have 
the  principle  of  benevolence  in  an  higher  degree  than 
another:  it  will  not  follow  from  hence,  that  his  general 
temper,  or  character,  or  actions,  will  be  more  benevolent 
than  the  other's.  For  he  may  have  self-love  in  such  a 
degree  as  quite  to  prevail  over  benevolence ;  so  that  it 
may  have  no  influence  at  all  upon  his  actions;  whereas 
benevolence  in  the  other  person,  though  in  a  lower  degree, 
may  yet  be  the  strongest  principle  in  his  heart;  and 
strong  enough  to  be  the  guide  of  his  actions,  so  as  to 
denominate  him  a  good  and  virtuous  man.  The  case  is 
here  as  in  scales:  it  is  not  one  weight,  considered  in 
itself,  which  determines  whether  the  scale  shall  ascend 
or  descend;  but  this  depends  upon  the  proportion  which 
that  one  weight  hath  to  the  other. 

It  being  thus  manifest  that  the  influence  which  bene- 
volence has  upon  our  actions,  and  how  far  it  goes  towards 
forming  our  character,  is  not  determined  by  the  degree 
itself  of  this  principle  in  our  mind;  but  by  the  propor- 
tion it  has  to  self-love  and  other  principles:  a  compari- 
son also  being  made  in  the  text  between  self-love  and 
the  love  of  our  neighbour;  these  joint  considerations 
aff'orded  sufficient  occasion  for  treating  here  of  that  pro- 
portion: it  plainly  is  implied  in  the  precept,  though  it 
should  be  questioned,  whether  it  be  the  exact  meaning 
of  the  words,  as  thyself. 

Love  of  our  neighbour  tlicn  must  bear  some  proportion 
to  self-love,  and  virtue  to  be  sure  consists  in  the  due  pro- 
portion. What  this  due  proportion  is,  whether  as  a 
l)rinciple  in  the  mind,  or  as  exerted  in  actions,  can  be 
judged  of  only  from  our  nature  and  condition  in  tliis 
Avorld.  Of  the  degree  in  which  aff'cctions  and  the  prin- 
ciples of  action,  considered  in  themselves,  |)revail,  we 
have  no  measure:  let  us  tlien  proceed  to  the  course  of 
behaviour,  the  actions  they  produce. 

K 


146  UPON  THK  LOVE  OF  [SEa.XH.- 

Both  our  nature  and  condition  require,  that  each  par- 
ticular man  should  make  particular  provision  for  himself: 
and  the  inquiry,  what  proportion  benevolence  should  have 
to  self-love,  when  brought  down  to  practice,  will  be, 
what  is  a  competent  care  and  provision  for  ourselves. 
And  how  certain  soever  it  be,  that  each  man  must  deter-- 
mine  this  for  himself;  and  how  ridiculous  soever  it 
would  be,  for  any  to  attempt  to  determine  it  for  another: 
yet  it  is  to  be  observed,  that  the  proporti'on  is  real;  and 
that  a  competent  provision  has  a  bound;  and  that  it  can- 
not be  all  which  w^e  can  possibly  get  and  keep  within 
our  grasp,  without  legal  injustice.  Mankind  almost  uni- 
versally bring  in  vanity,  supplies  for  what  is  called  a  hfe 
of  pleasure,  covetousness,  or  imaginary  notions  of  supe- 
riority over  others,  to  determine  this  question:  but  every 
one  who  desires  to  act  a  proper  part  in  society,  w^ould 
do  well  to  consider,  how  far  any  of  them  come  in  to 
determine  it,  in  the  way  of  moral  consideration.  All 
that  can  be  said  is,  supposing,  what,  as  the  world  goes, 
is  so  much  to  be  supposed  that  is  scarce  to  be  mentioned, 
that  persons  do  not  neglect  what  they  really  owe  to 
themselves;  the  more  of  their  care  and  thought,  and  of 
their  fortune,  they  employ  in  doing  good  to  their  fellow 
creatures,  the  nearer  they  come  up  to  the  law  of  perfec- 
tion, Thou  shall  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself. 

Thirdly,  if  the  words,  as  thyself,  were  to  be  understood 
of  an  equality  of  affection;  it  would  not  be  attended  with 
those  consequences,  which  perhaps  may  be  thought  to 
follow  from  it.  Suppose  a  person  to  have  the  samq  set- 
tled regard  to  others,  as  to  himself ;  that  in  every  deli- 
berate scheme  or  pursuit  he  took  their  interest  into  the 
account  in  the  same  degree  as  his  own,  so  far  as  an 
equality  of  affection  would  produce  this:  yet  he  would  in 
fact,  and  ought  to  be,  much  more  taken  up  and  employed 
about  himself,  and  his  own  concerns,  than  about  others, 
and  their  interests.  For,  besides  the  one  common  affec- 
tion toward  himself  and  his  neighbour,  he  would  have^ 
several  other  particular  affections,  passions,  appetites, 
which  he  could  not  possibly  feel  in  common  both  for 
himself  and  others :  now  these  sensations  themselves 
very  much  employ  us;  and  have  perhaps  as  great  influ- 


Ses.  XII.]  OUR  NEIGHBOUR.  147 

ence  as  self-love.  So  far  indeed  as  self-love^  and  cool 
reflection  upon  what  is  for  our  interest,  would  set  us  on 
work  to  gain  a  supply  of  our  own  several  wants",  so  far 
the  love  of  our  neiglibour  would  make  us  do  the  same 
for  him:  but  the  degree  in  which  we  are  put  upon  seek- 
ing and  making  use  of  the  means  of  gratification,  by  the 
feeling  of  those  affections,  appetites,  and  passions,  must 
necessarily  be  peculiar  to  ourselves. 

That  there  are  particular  passions  (suppose  shame, 
resentment,)  which  men  seem  to  have,  and  feel  in  com- 
mon, both  for  themselves  and  others,  makes  no  altera- 
tion in  respect  to  those  passions  and  appetites  which 
cannot  possibly  be  thus  felt  in  common.  From  hence 
(and  perhaps  more  things  of  the  like  kind  might  be 
mentioned)  it  follows,  that  though  theje  were  an  equality 
of  affection  to  both,  yet  regard  to  ourselves,  would  be 
more  prevalent  than  attention  to  the  concerns  of  others. 

And  from  moral  considerations  it  ought  to  be  so,  sup- 
posing still  the  equality  of  aflfection  commanded:  because 
we  are  in  a  peculiar  manner,  as  I  may  speak,  intrusted 
with  ourselves;  and  therefore  care  of  our  own  interests, 
as  well  as  of  our  conduct,  particularly  belongs  to  us. 

To  these  things  must  be  added,  that  moral  obligations 
can  extend  no  further  than  to  natural  possibilities.  Now 
we  have  a  perception  of  our  own  interests,  like  consci- 
ousness of  our  own  existence,  which  we  always  carry 
about  with  us;  and  which,  in  its  continuation,  kind,  and 
degree,  seems  impossible  to  be  felt  in  respect  to  the  in- 
terests of  otliers. 

From  all  these  things  it  fully  appears,  that  though  we 
were  to  love  our  neighbour  in  the  same  degree  as  we 
love  ourselves,  so  far  as  this  is  possible;  yet  the  care  of 
ourselves,  of  the  individual,  would  not  be  neglected;  the 
apprehended  danger  of  which  seems  to  be  the  only  ob- 
jection against  understanding  the  precept  in  this  strict 
sense. 

III.  The  general  temper  of  mmd  which  the  due  love 
of  our  neighbour  would  form  us  to,  and  the  influence  it 
would  have  upon  our  behaviour  in  life,  is  now  to  be 
considered. 

The  temper  and  behaviour  of  charity  is  explained  at 


148  UPON  THE  LOVE   OF  [Ser.  XII. 

large,  in  that  known  passage  of  St  Paul:*  Charity  suf- 
fer eth  Jong,  and  is  kind;  charity  envieth  not,  aoth  not 
behave  itsef  unseemly,  seeketh  not  her  own,  thinketh  no 
evil,  beareth  all  things,  believetJi  all  things,  hopeth  all  things. 
As  to  the  meaning  of  the  expressions,  seeketh  not  her 
own,  thinketh  no  evil,  believeth  all  things;  however  those 
expressions  may  be  explained  away,  this  meekness,  and 
in  some  degree  easiness  of  temper,  readiness  to  forego 
our  right  for  the  sake  of  peace,  as  well  as  in  the  way  of 
compassion,  freedom  from  mistrust,  and  disposition  to 
believe  well  of  our  neighbour,  this  general  temper,  I 
say,  accompanies,  and  is  plainly  the  effect  of  love  and 
good-will.  And,  though  such  is  the  world  in  which  we 
live,  that  experience  and  knowledge  of  it  not  only  may, 
but  must  beget  ir^  us  greater  regard  to  ourselves,  and 
doubtfulness  of  the  characters  of  others,  than  is  natural 
to  mankind;  yet  these  ought  not  to  be  carried  further 
than  the  nature  and  course  of  things  make  necessary. 
It  is  still  true,  even  in  the  present  state  of  things,  bad  as 
it  is,  that  a  real  good  man  had  rather  be  deceived,  than 
be  suspicious;  had  rather  forego  his  known  right,  than 
run  the  venture  of  doing  even  a  hard  thing.  This  is  the 
general  temper  of  that  charity,  of  which  the  apostle 
asserts,  that  if  he  had  it  not,  giving  his  body  to  be  burned 
would  avail  him  nothing ;  and  which  he  says  shall  never 
fail. 

The  happy  influence  of  this  temper  extends  to  every 
different  relation  and  circumstance  in  human  life.  It 
plainly  renders  a  man  better,  more  to  be  desired,  as 
to  all  the  respects  and  relations  we  can  stand  in  to 
each  other.  The  benevolent  man  is  disposed  to  make 
use  of  all  external  advantages  in  such  a  manner  as 
shall  contribute  to  the  good  of  others,  as  well  as  to  his 
own  satisfaction.  His  own  satisfaction  consists  in  this. 
He  will  be  easy  and  kind  to  his  dependents,  compas- 
sionate to  the  poor  and  distressed,  friendly  to  all  with 
whom  he  has  to  do.  This  includes  the  good  neighbour, 
parent,  master,  magistrate :  and  such  a  behaviour  would 
plainly  make  dependence,  inferiority,  and  even  servitude, 
easy.    So  that  a  good  or  charitable  man  of  superior  rank 

*  I  Cor.  xiau 


Ser.  XII. 


OUR  NEIGHBOUR, 


149 


in  wisdom,  fortune,  authority,  is  a  common  blessing  to 
the  place  ne  lives  in:  happmess  grows  under  his  influ- 
ence. This  good  principle  in  inferiors  would  discover 
itself  in  paying  respect,  gratitude,  obedience,  as  due.  It 
were  therefore,  methinks,  one  just  way  of  trying  one's 
own  character,  to  ask  ourselves,  am  I  in  reality  a  better 
master  or  servant,  a  better  friend,  a  better  neighbour, 
than  such  and  such  persons;  whom,  perhaps,  I  may 
think  not  to  deserve  the  character  of  virtue  and  rehgion 
so  much  as  myself.^ 

And  as  to  the  spirit  of  party,  which  unhappily  prevails 
amongst  mankind,  whatever  are  the  distinctions  which 
serve  for  a  supply  to  it,  some  or  other  of  which  have 
obtained  in  all  ages  and  countries:  one  who  is  thus 
friendly  to  his  kind  w^ll  immediately  make  due  allow- 
ances for  it,  as  what  cannot  but  be  amongst  such  crea- 
tures as  men,  in  such  a  world  as  this.  And  as  wrath 
and  fury  and  overbearing  upon  these  occasions  proceed, 
as  I  may  speak,  from  men  s  feebng  only  on  their  own 
side:  so  a  common  feeling,  for  others  as  well  as  for  our- 
selves, would  render  us  sensible  to  this  truth,  which  it  is 
strange  can  have  so  little  influence;  that  we  ourselves 
diff'er  from  others,  just  as  much  as  they  do  from  us.  I 
put  the  matter  in  this  way,  because  it  can  scarce  be 
expected  that  the  generality  of  men  should  see,  that  those 
things  which  are  made  the  occasions  of  dissension  and 
fomenting  the  party-spirit,  are  really  nothing  at  all:  but 
it  may  be  expected  from  all  people,  how  much  soever 
they  are  in  earnest  about  their  respective  peculiarities, 
that  humanity,  and  common  good-will  to  their  fellow 
creatures,  should  moderate  and  restrain  that  wrclchetl 
spirit. 

This  good  temper  of  charity  likewise  wo\ild  prcn-ent 
strife -and  enmity  arising  from  other  occasions:  it  would 
prevent  our  giving  just  cause  of  off*ence,  and  our  taking 
it  without  cause.  And  in  cases  of  real  injury,  a  good 
man  will  make  all  the  allowance?  which  are  to  be  made; 
and,  without  any  attempts  of  retaliation,  he  will  only 
consult  his  own  and  other  men's  security  for  tlic  future, 
against  injustice  and  wrong. 

IV.  I  proceed  to  consider  lastly,  what  is  aflirmcd  of 


150  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  j;seb.  xir 

the  precept  now  explained,  that  it  comprehends  in  it 
all  others ;  i.  e.  that  to  love  our  neighbour  as  ourselve? 
includes  in  it  all  virtues. 

Now  the  way  in  which  every  maxim  of  conduct,  or 
general  speculative  assertion,  when  it  is  to  be  explained 
at  large,  should  be  treated,  is,  to  show  what  are  the  par- 
ticular truths  which  were  designed  to  be  comprehended 
under  such  a  general  observation,  how  far  it  is  strictly 
true;  and  then  the  limitations,  restrictions,  and  excep- 
tions, if  there  be  exceptions,  with  which  it  is  to  be  under- 
stood. But  it  is  only  the  former  of  these;  namely,  how 
far  the  assertion  in  the  text  holds,  and  the  ground  of 
the  pre-eminence  assigned  to  the  precept  of  it,  which  in 
strictness  comes  into  our  present  consideration. 

However,  in  almost  every  thing  that  is  said,  there  is 
somewhat  to  be  understood  beyond  what  is  explicitly  laid 
down,  and  which  we  of  course  supply ;  somewhat,  I  mean, 
which  would  not  be  commonly  called  a  restriction,  or 
limitation.  Thus,  when  benevolence  is  said  to  be  the 
sum  of  virtue,  it  is  not  spoken  of  as  a  blind  propension, 
but  as  a  principle  in  reasonable  creatures,  and  so  to  be 
directed  by  their  reason:  for  reason  and  reflection  come 
into  our  notion  of  a  moral  agent.  And  that  will  lead  us 
to  consider  distant  consequences,  as  well  as  the  immediate 
tendency  of  an  action :  it  will  teach  us,  that  the  care  of 
some  persons,  suppose  children  and  families,  is  parti- 
cularly committed  to  our  charge  by  Nature  and  Provi- 
dence ;  as  also  that  there  are  other  circumstances,  suppose 
friendship  or  former  obligations,  which  require  that  we 
do  good  to  some  preferably  to  others.  Reason,  con- 
sidered merely  as  subservient  to  benevolence,  as  assist- 
ing to  produce  the  greatest  good,  will  teach  us  to  have 
particular  regard  to  these  relations  and  circumstances; 
because  it  is  plainly  for  the  good  of  the  world  that  they 
should  be  regarded.  And  as  there  are  numberless  cases, 
in  which,  notwithstanding  appearances,  we  are  not  com- 
petent judges,  whether  a  particular  action  will  upon  the 
whole  do  good  or  harm;  reason  in  the  same  way  will 
teach  us  to  be  cautious  how  we  act  in  these  cases  of 
uncertainty.  It  will  suggest  to  our  consideration,  which 
is  the  safer  side;  how  liable  we  are  to  be  led  wrong  by 


'Ser.  xit  ]  our  neighbour.  151 

passion  and  private  interest;  and  what  regard  is  due  to 
laws,  and  the  judgment  of  mankind.  All  these  thmgs 
must  come  into  consideration,  were  it  only  in  order  to 
determine  which  way  of  acting  is  likely  to  produce  the 
greatest  good.  Thus,  upon  supposition  that  it  were  in 
the  strictest  sense  true,  without  limitation,  that  benevo- 
lence includes  in  it  all  virtues;  yet  reason  must  come  in 
as  its  guide  and  director,  in  order  to  attain  its  own  end, 
the  end  of  benevolence,  the  greatest  public  good.  Rea- 
son then  being  thus  included,  let  us  now  consider  the 
truth  of  the  assertion  itself. 

First,  It  is  manifest  that  nothing  can  be  of  consequence 
to  mankind  or  any  creature,  but  happiness.  This  then 
is  all  which  any  person  can,  in  strictness  of  speaking,  be 
said  to  have  a  right  to.  We  can  therefore  owe  no  man 
any  thing,  but  only  to  further  and  promote  his  happiness, 
according  to  our  abilities.  And  therefore  a  disposition 
and  endeavour  to  do  good  to  all  with  whom  we  have  to 
do,  in  the  degree  and  manner  which  the  different  rela- 
tions we  stand  in  to  them  require,  is  a  discharge  of  all 
the  obligations  we  are  under  to  them. 

As  human  nature  is  not  one  simple  uniform  thing, 
but  a  composition  of  various  parts,  body,  spirit,  appetites, 
particular  passions,  and  affections;  fur  each  of  which 
reasonable  self-love  would  lead  men  to  have  due  regard, 
and  make  suitable  provision:  so  society  consists  of  vari- 
ous parts,  to  which  we  stand  in  different  respects  and 
relations;  and  just  benevolence  would  as  surely  lead  us 
to  have  due  regard  to  each  of  these,  and  behave  as  the 
respective  relations  require.  Reasonable  good-will,  and 
right  behaviour  towards  our  fellow  creatures,  are  in  a 
manner  the  same:  only  that  the  former  expresseth  the 
principle  as  it  is  in  the  mind;  the  latter,  the  principle  as 
it  were  become  external,  i.  e.  exerted  in  actions. 

And  so  far  as  temperance,  sobriety,  and  moderation  in 
sensual  pleasures,  and  the  contrary  vices,  have  any  re- 
spect to  our  fellow  creatures,  any  influence  upon  their 
quiet,  welfare,  and  happiness;  as  they  always  have  a 
real,  and  often  a  near  influence  upon  it;  so  far  it  is 
manifest  those  virtues  may  be  produced  by  the  love  of 
our  neighbour,  and  that  the  contrary  vices  would  be  pre- 


152 


UPON  THE  LOVE  OF 


[Ser.  XII. 


vented  by  it.  Indeed  if  men's  regard  to  themselves  will 
not  restrain  them  from  excess;  it  may  be  thought  little 
probable,  that  their  love  to  others  will  be  sufficient:  but 
the  reason  is,  that  their  love  to  others  is  not,  any  more 
than  their  regard  to  themselves,  just,  and  in  its  due 
degree.  There  are  however  manifest  instances  of  per- 
sons kept  sober  and  temperate  from  regard  to  their  affairs^ 
and  the  welfare  of  those  who  depend  upon  them.  And 
it  is  obvious  to  every  one,  that  habitual  excess,  a  dissolute 
course  of  life,  imphes  a  general  neglect  of  the  duties  we 
owe  towards  our  friends,  our  families,  and  our  country. 

From  hence  it  is  manifest  that  the  common  virtues, 
and  the  common  vices  of  mankind,  may  be  traced  up  to 
benevolence,  or  the  want  of  it.  And  this  entitles  the 
precept.  Thou  shall  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself,  to  the 
pre-eminence  given  to  it;  and  is  a  justification  of  the 
Apostle's  assertion,  that  all  other  commandments  are 
(omprehended  in  it;  whatever  cautions  and  restrictions* 
there  are,  which  might  require  to  be  considered,  if  we 
were  to  state  particularly  and  at  length,  what  is  virtue 
and  right  behaviour  in  mankind.  But, 

Secondly,  It  might  be  added,  that  in  a  higher  and 
more  general  way  of  consideration,  leaving  out  the  par- 

*  For  insLancc :  as  we  are  not  competent  jiK]«es,  what  is  upon  the  whole  for  the 
P^ood  of  the  world,  there  may  be  other  immediate  ends  appointed  ns  to  pursue^ 
besides  that  one  of  doing  j^ootl,  or  producing  hap{)iness.  Thongh  the  pood  of  the 
crfation  be  tiie  oidy  end  of  the  Author  of  it,  yet  i  e  may  have  laid  us  under  particular 
()l)l'jgati()ns,  which  we  may  discern  and  feel  ourselves  under,  quite  distinct  from  a  per- 
cepiion,  that  the  observance  or  violation  of  them  is  for  the  happiness  or  misery  of  our 
lellow  creatures.  And  this  is  in  fact  the  case.  For  there  are  certain  dispositions  of 
n  ind,  and  ceriain  actions,  which  are  in  themselves  approved  or  disapproved  by  man- 
1.  ind,  aI)sLract<'d  froi:;  the  con>ideration  of  tlieir  tendency  to  the  happiness  or  misery 
.  f  the  world  ;  a()prov('d  or  disapproved  by  reflection,  by  that  principle  witliin,  which 
L<  (he  pnide  of  life,  the  judgr  of  right  and  wrong.  Numberless  instances  of  this  kind 
miglit  lie  mentioned.  Tliere  are  pieces  of  trenchery,  wliich  in  themselves  appear 
ba>e  and  detestable  to  every  one.  There  are  actions,  which  perhaps  can  scarce  have 
any  other  general  name  given  them,  than  indecencies,  which  yet  are  odious  ainl 
shock. ng  to  liiunan  nature.  Tlu're  is  such  a  thing  as  meaiuwss,  a  little  mind  ; 
whicii,  as  it  is  quite  distinct  fiom  incjijiacity ,  m  it  raises  a  dislike  and  disapprobation 
quite  different  from  tliat  <;onLenipt,  wiiich  men  are  too  apt  to  have,  of  mere  folly. 
On  ihe  oilier  hand  ;  what  we  call  greatness  of  mind  is  the  object  of  another  sort  ol 
ap[»rol)ation,  than  superior  umlerstanding.  Fiilelity,  iionour,  stri(-t  justice,  are  them- 
selves approved  in  the  highest  degree,  al)stracted  from  the  consideration  of  their 
tendency.  Now,  whether  it  i)e  thought  that  each  of  these  are  connected  wiih  bene- 
\olenr;e  in  our  nature,  and  so  may  be  considered  us  the  same  thing  with  it;  or 
whetlier  some  of  them  be  thought  an  interior  kind  of  virtues  and  vices,  somewhat 
1  ke  iiaiiiral  Ijeauties  and  (leformiti«  s ;  or  lastly,  |plain  exceptions  to  Ihe  general  rule  ; 
,hu>  iiincli  however  is  f;ertain,  that  the  things  now  instanced  in,  aiul  nuniOerless 
jlhei-si,  are  a|ii>rov(d  or  disapproved  by  mankind  in  general,  in  quite  another  vkiw 
than  io  (;onduciv(r  to  the  liappiness  or  misery  of  the  world. 


Sen.  XII.]  OUR  NEIGHBOUR.  153 

ticular  nature  of  creatures,  and  the  particular  circum- 
stances in  which  they  are  placed,  benevolence  seems  in 
the  strictest  sense  to  include  in  it  all  that  is  good  and 
worthy;  all  that  is  good,  which  we  have  any  distinct 
particular  notion  of.  We  have  no  clear  conception  of 
any  positive  moral  attribute  in  the  supreme  Being,  but 
what  may  be  resolved  up  into  goodness.  And,  if  we 
consider  a  reasonable  creature  or  moral  agent,  without 
regard  to  the  particular  relations  and  circumstances  in 
which  he  is  placed;  we  cannot  conceive  any  thing  else 
to  come  in  towards  determining  whether  he  is  to  be 
ranked  in  a  higher  or  lower  class  of  virtuous  beings,  but 
the  higher  or  lower  degree  in  which  that  principle,  and 
what  is  manifestly  connected  with  it,  prevail  in  him. 

That  which  we  more  strictly  call  piety,  or  the  love  of 
God,  and  which  is  an  essential  part  of  a  right  temper, 
some  may  perhaps  imagine  no  way  connected  with  bene- 
volence: yet  surely  they  must  be  connected,  if  there  be 
indeed  in  being  an  object  infinitely  good.  Human  nature 
is  so  constituted,  that  every  good  affection  implies  the 
love  of  itself;  i.e.  becomes  the  object  of  a  new  affection 
in  the  same  person.  Thus,  to  be  righteous,  implies  in  it* 
the  love  of  righteousness;  to  be  benevolent,  the  love  of 
!)enevolence ;  to  be  good,  the  love  of  goodness;  whether 
tliis  righteousness,  benevolence,  or  goodness,  be  viewed 
v\s  in  our  own  mind,  or  in  another's:  and  the  love  of 
God  as  a  being  perfectly  good,  is  the  love  of  perfect 
<iOodness  contemplated  in  a  being  or  person.  Thus 
morality  and  religion,  virtue  and  piety,  will  at  last  neces- 
sarily coincide,  run  up  into  one  and  the  same  point,  and 
love  will  be  in  all  senses  the  end  of  the  commandment. 

0  Almuihty  God^  inspire  us  vnth  thii-.  divine  principle; 
kill  in  us  all  the  seeds  of  envy  and  ill-unll;  and  help  us, 
by  cultivating  iciihin  ourselves  the  love  ofo?ir  nei(/hl)our, 
to  improve  in  the  love  of  thee.  Thou  hast  placed  in  us 
various  kindreds^  friendships^  and  relit  ions,  as  the  school 
of  discipline  for  our  affections:  help  us,  by  the  due  e.r- 
ercise  of  themy  to  improve  to  perfection;  till  all  partial 
affection  be  lost  in  that  entire  universal  one,  and  thou,  O 
Cody  shall  be  all  in  all. 


154 


UPON  TOE  LOVE  OF  GOD. 


[Sbb.  XIII. 


SERMON  XIIL  XIV. 

UPON   THE   LOVE   OF  GOD. 

Thou  shall  love  the  Lord  thy  God  imth  all  thy  heart,  and  with  all 
thy  soul,  and  with  all  thy  mind. — Matt.  xxii.  37. 

Every  body  knows,  you  therefore  need  only  just  be  put 
in  mind,  that  there  is  such  a  thing,  as  having  so  great 
horror  of  one  extreme,  as  to  run  insensibly  and  of  course 
into  the  contrary ;  and  that  a  doctrine's  having  been  a 
shelter  for  enthusiasm,  or  made  to  serve  the  purposes  of 
superstition,  is  no  proof  of  the  falsity  of  it :  truth  or  right 
being  somewhat  real  in  itself,  and  so  not  to  be  judged  of 
by  its  liableness  to  abuse,  or  by  its  supposed  distance 
from  or*  nearness  to  error.  It  may  be  sufficient  to  have 
mentioned  this  in  general,  without  taking  notice  of  the 
particular  extravagancies,  which  have  been  vented  under 
the  pretence  or  endeavour  of  explaining  the  love  of 
God  ;  or  how  manifestly  we  are  got  into  the  contrary 
extreme,  under  the  notion  of  a  reasonable  religion  ;  so 
very  reasonable,  as  to  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  heart 
and  affections,  if  these  words  signify  any  thing  but  the 
faculty  by  which  we  discern  speculative  truth. 

By  the  love  of  God,  I  would  understand  all  those 
regards,  all  those  affections  of  mind  which  are  due 
immediately  to  him  from  such  a  creature  as  man,  and 
which  rest  in  him  as  their  end.  As  this  does  not  include 
servile  fear ;  so  neither  will  any  other  regards,  how 
reasonable  soever,  which  respect  any  thing  out  of  or 
besides  the  perfection  of  divine  nature,  come  into  consider- 
ation here.  But  all  fear  is  not  excluded,  because,  his 
displeasure  is  itself  the  natural  proper  object  of  fear. 
Reverence,  ambition  of  his  love  and  approbation,  delight 
in  the  hope  or  consciousness  of  it,  come  likewise  into  this 
definition  of  the  love  of  God  ;  because  he  is  the  natural 
object  of  all  those  affections  or  movements  of  mind,  as 
really  as  he  is  the  object  of  the  affection,  which  is  in  the  / 
strictest  sense  called  love ;  and  all  of  them  equally  rest 


Smsl.  XIII.]  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  155 

in  him,  as  their  end.  And  they  may  all  be  nnderstood 
to  be  implied  in  these  words  of  our  Saviour,  without 
putting  any  force  upon  them  :  for  he  is  spealcing  of  the 
love  of  God  and  our  neighbour,  as  containing  the  whole 
of  piety  and  virtue. 

It  is  plain  that  the  nature  of  man  is  so  constituted,  as 
to  feel  certain  affections  upon  the  sight  or  contemplation 
of  certain  objects.  Now  the  very  notion  of  affection  im- 
phes  resting  in  its  object  as  an  end.  And  the  particular 
affection  to  good  characters,  reverence  and  moral  love 
of  them,  is  natural  to  all  those  who  have  any  degree  of 
real  goodness  in  themselves.  This  will  be  illustrated  by 
the  description  of  a  perfect  character  in  a  creature  ;  and 
by  considering  the  manner,  in  which  a  good  man  in  his 
presence  would  be  affected  towards  such  a  character. 
He  would  of  course  feel  th^  affections  of  love,  rever- 
ence, desire  of  his  approbation,  delight  in  the  hope  or 
consciousness  of  it.  And  surely  all  this  is  applicable, 
and  may  be  brought  up  to  that  Being,  who  is  infinitely 
more  than  an  adequate  object  of  all  those  affections  : 
whom  we  are  commanded  to  love  with  all  our  heart,  with 
nil  our  soul,  and  with  all  our  mind.  And  of  these  regards 
towards  Almighty  God,  some  are  more  particularly  suit- 
able to  and  becoming  so  imperfect  a  creature  as  man,  in 
this  mortal  state  we  are  passing  through  ;  and  some  of 
them,  and  perhaps  other  exercises  of  the  mind,  will  be 
the  employment  and  happiness  of  good  men  in  a  state 
of  perfection. 

This  is  a  general  view  of  what  the  following  discourse 
will  contain.  And  it  is  manifest  the  subject  is  a  real 
one  :  there  is  nothing  in  it  enthusiastical  or  unreasonable. 
And  if  it  be  indeed  at  all  a  subject,  it  is  one  of  the  utmost 
importance. 

As  mankind  have  a  faculty  by  which  they  discern 
speculative  truth;  so  we  have  various  aflcctions  towards 
external  objects.  Understanding  and  tcMnj)er,  reason 
and  aflection,  are  as  distinct  ideas,  as  reason  and  hunger; 
and  one  would  think  could  no  more  be  confounded.  It 
is  by  reason  that  we  get  the  ideas  of  several  objects  of 
our  affections :  but  in  these  cases  reason  and  affection 
are  no  more  the  same,  than  sight  of  a  particular  object, 


156  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  [Ser.  XTI} 

and  the  pleasure  or  uneasiness  consequent  thereupon, 
are  the  same.  Now,  as  reason  tends  to  and  rests  in  the 
discernment  of  truth,  the  object  of  it ;  so  the  very  nature 
of  affection  consists  in  tending  towards,  and  resting  in, 
its  objects  as  an  end.  We  do  indeed  often  in  common 
language  say,  that  things  are  loved,  desired,  esteemed, 
not  for  themselves,  but  for  somewhat  further,  some- 
what out  of  and  beyond  them :  yet,  in  these  cases, 
whoever  will  attend,  will  see,  that  these  things  are  not 
in  reality  the  objects  of  the  affections,  i.  e.  are  not  loved, 
desired,  esteemed,  but  the  somewhat  further  and  beyond 
them.  If  we  have  no  affections  which  rest  in  what  are 
called  their  objects,  then  what  is  called  affection,  love, 
desire,  hope,  in  human  nature,  is  only  an  uneasiness  in 
being  at  rest ;  an  unquiet  disposition  to  action,  progress, 
pursuit,  without  end  or  meaning.  But  if  there  be  any 
such  thing  as  delight  in  the  company  of  one  person, 
rather  than  of  another;  whether  in  the  way  of  friendship, 
or  mirth  and  entertainment,  it  is  all  one,  if  it  be  without 
respect  to  fortune,  honour,  or  increasing  our  stores  of 
knowledge,  or  any  thing  beyond  the  present  time ;  here 
is  an  instance  of  an  affection  absolutely  resting  in  its 
objects  as  its  end,  and  being  gratified  in  the  same  way  as 
the  appetite  of  hunger  is  satisfied  with  food.  Yet  nothing 
is  more  common  than  to  hear  it  asked,  what  advantage 
a  man  hath  in  such  a  course,  suppose  of  study,  particular 
friendships,  or  in  any  other  :  nothing,  I  say,  is  more  com- 
mon than  to  hear  such  a  question  put  in  a  way  which 
supposes  no  gain,  advantage,  or  interest,  but  as  a  means 
to  somewhat  further :  and  if  so,  then  there  is  no  such 
thing  at  all  as  real  interest,  gain,  or  advantage.  This  is 
the  same  absurdity  with  respect  to  life,  as  infinite  series 
of  effects  without  a  cause  is  in  speculation.  The  gain, 
advantage,  or  interest,  consists  in  the  delight  itself,  aris- 
ing from  such  a  faculty's  having  its  object :  neither  is 
there  any  such  thing  as  happiness  or  enjoyment,  but 
what  arises  from  hence.  The  pleasures  of  hope  and  of 
reflection  are  not  exceptions  :  the  former  being  only  this 
happiness  anticipated  ;  the  latter,  the  same  happiness 
enjoyed  over  again  after  its  time.  And  even  the 
general  expectation   of  future   happiness   can  afford 


Ser.  XIII.]  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  157 

satisfaction,  only  as  it  is  a  present  object  to  the  principle 
of  self-Jove. 

It  was  doubtless  intended,  that  life  should  be  very 
much  a  pursuit  to  the  gross  of  mankind.  But  this  is 
carried  so  much  farther  than  is  reasonable,  that  what 
gives  immediate  satisfaction,  i.  e.  our  present  interest,  is 
scarce  considered  as  our  interest  at  all.  It  is  inventions 
which  have  only  a  remote  tendency  towards  enjoyment, 
perhaps  but  a  remote  tendency  towards  gaining  the 
means  only  of  enjoyment,  which  are  chiefly  spoken  of 
as  useful  to  the  world.  And  though  this  way  of  think- 
ing were  just  with  respect  to  the  imperfect  state  we  are 
now  in,  where  we  know  so  little  of  satisfaction  without 
satiety ;  yet  it  must  be  guarded  against,  when  we  are  con- 
sidering the  happiness  of  a  state  of  perfection  ;  which  hap- 
piness being  enjoyment  and  not  hope,  must  necessarily 
consist  in  this,  that  our  affections  have  their  objects,  and 
rest  in  those  objects  as  an  end,  i.  e.  be  satisfied  with  them. 
This  will  further  appear  in  the  sequel  of  this  discourse. 

Of  the  several  affections,  or  ipward  sensations,  which 
particular  objects  excite  in  man,  there  are  some,  the 
having  of  which  implies  the  love  of  them,  when  they  are 
reflected  upon.*  This  cannot  be  said  of  all  our  affec- 
tions, principles,  and  motives  of  action.  It  were  ridi- 
culous to  assert,  that  a  man  upon  reflection  hath  the 
same  kind  of  approbation  of  the  appetite  of  hunger,  or 
the  passion  of  fear,  as  he  hath  of  good-will  to  his  fellow 
creatures.  To  be  a  just,  a  good,  a  righteous  man,  plainly 
carries  with  it  a  peculiar  affection  to  or  love  of  justice, 
goodness,  righteousness,  whrn  these  principles  are  the 
objects  of  contemplation.  Now  if  a  man  approves  of, 
or  hath  an  affection  to,  any  principle  in  and  for  itself, 
incidental  things  allowed  for,  it  will  be  the  same  whether 
he  views  it  in  his  own  mind,  or  in  another ;  in  himself, 
or  in  his  neighbour.  This  is  the  account  of  our  approba- 
tion of,  our  moral  love  and  affection  to  good  characters ; 
which  cannot  but  be  in  those  who  have  any  degrees 

*  St  Austin  obsrrvps,  Amor  ipso  onlinate  nmnniins  est,  quo  hrno  nnintur  quM 
Bmnndum  est,  ut  sit  in  ii()l)is  virtus  qui  vivitur  Ixiie,  i.e.  The  qffrrtwn  ^rhich  we 
rightly  have  for  what  is  lovely,  must  ordiiintr  Justly,  in  due  manner  and  prvjMrtion^ 
become  (he  object  of  n  nnr  nffi'rtion,  or  br  itsrlf  brlovrd,  in  order  to  our  bring  endutd 
with  that  virtue  which  is  the  principle  of  a  good  life.    (.'iv.  Dei.  I.  xv.  c. 


158  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  [Ser.  XIIL 

of  real  goodness  in  themselves,  and  who  discern  and 
take  notice  of  the  same  principle  in  others. 

From  observation  of  what  passes  within  ourselves,  our 
own  actions,  and  the  behaviour  of  others,  the  mind  may 
carry  on  its  reflections  as  far  as  it  pleases  ;  much  beyond 
what  we  experience  in  ourselves,  or  discern  in  our  fellow 
creatures.  It  may  go  on,  and  consider  goodness  as  become 
a  uniform  continued  principle  of  action,  as  conducted  by 
reason,  and  forming  a  temper  and  character  absolutely 
good  and  perfect,  which  is  in  a  higher  sense  excellent, 
and  proportionably  the  object  of  love  and  approbation. 

Let  us  then  suppose  a  creature  perfect  according  to 
his  created  nature ;  let  his  form  be  human,  and  his  ca- 
pacities no  more  than  equal  to  those  of  the  chief  of  men  : 
goodness  shall  be  his  proper  character ;  with  wisdom  to 
direct  it,  and  power  within  some  certain  determined 
sphere  of  action  to  exert  it ;  but  goodness  must  be  the 
simple  actuating  principle  within  him  ;  this  being  the 
moral  quality  which  is  amiable,  or  the  immediate  object 
of  love  as  distinct  from  other  affections  of  approbation. 
Here  then  is  a  finite  object  for  our  mind  to  tend  towards, 
to  exercise  itself  upon :  a  creature,  perfect  according  to 
his  capacity,  fixed,  steady,  equally  unmoved  by  weak  pity 
or  more  weak  fury  and  resentment ;  forming  the  justest 
scheme  of  conduct ;  going  on  undisturbed  in  the  execution 
of  it,  through  the  several  methods  of  severity  and  reward, 
towards  his  end,  namely,  the  general  happiness  of  all  with 
whom  he  hath  to  do,  as  in  itself  right  and  valuable.  This 
character,  though  uniform  in  itself,  in  its  principle,  yet 
exerting  itself  in  different  ways,  or  considered  in 
different  views,  may  by  its  appearing  variety  mo ve  different 
affections.  Thus,  the  severity  of  justice  would  not  affect  us 
in  the  same  way  as  an  act  of  mercy  :  the  adventitious 
qualities  of  wisdom  and  power  may  be  considered  in 
themselves:  and  even  the  strength  of  mind,  which  this 
immoveable  goodness  supposes,  may  likewise  be  viewed 
as  an  object  of  contemplation,  distinct  from  the  goodness 
itself.  Superior  excellence  of  any  kind,  as  well  as  superior 
visdom  and  power,  is  the  object  of  awe  and  reverence  to 
1  creatures,  whatever  their  moral  character  be:  but  so 
r.ir  as  creatures  of  the  lowest  rank  were  good,  so  far  the 


Sea.  XIIL]  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  159 

view  of  this  character,  as  simply  good,  must  appear  ami- 
able to  them,  be  the  object  of,  or  beget  love.  Further, 
suppose  we  were  conscious,  that  this  superior  person  so 
far  approved  of  us,  that  we  had  nothing  servilely  to  fear 
from  him;  that  he  was  really  our  friend,  and  kind  and 
good  to  us  in  particular,  as  he  had  occasionally  inter- 
course with  us:  we  must  be  other  creatures  than  we  are, 
or  we  could  not  but  feel  the  same  kind  of  satisfaction 
and  enjoyment  (whatever  would  be  the  degree  of  it) 
from  this  higher  acquaintance  and  friendship,  as  we  feel 
from  common  ones;  the  intercourse  being  real,  and  the 
persons  equally  present,  in  both  cases.  We  should  have 
a  more  ardent  desire  to  be  approved  by  his  better  judg- 
ment, and  a  satisfaction  in  that  approbation  of  the  same 
sort  with  what  would  be  felt  in  respect  to  common  per- 
sons, or  be  wrought  in  us  by  their  presence. 

Let  us  now  raise  the  character,  and  suppose  this  crea- 
ture, for  we  are  still  going  on  with  the  supposition  of  a 
creature,  our  proper  guardian  and  governor;  that  we 
were  in  a  progress  of  being  towards  somewhat  further; 
and  that  his  scheme  of  government  was  too  vast  for  our 
capacities  to  comprehend:  remembering  still  that  he  is 
perfectly  good,  and  our  friend  as  well  as  our  governor. 
Wisdom,  power,  goodness,  accidentally  viewed  any 
where,  would  inspire  reverence,  awe,  love :  and  as  these 
affections  would  be  raised  in  higher  or  lower  degrees,  in 
proportion  as  we  had  occasionally  more  or  less  intercourse 
with  the  creature  endued  with  those  qualities;  so  this 
further  consideration  and  knowledge,  that  he  was  our 
proper  guardian  and  governor,  would  much  more  bring 
these  objects  and  qualities  home  to  oursel^s;  teach  us 
they  had  a  greater  respect  to  us  in  particular,  that  we  had  a 
higher  interest  in  that  wisdom  and  power  and  goodness. 
We  should,  with  joy,  gratitude,  reverence,  love,  trust, 
and  dependence,  appropriate  the  character,  as  what  we 
had  a  right  in;  and  make  our  boast  in  such  our  relation  to 
it.  And  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  would  be,  that  we 
should  refer  ourselves  im})licitly  to  him,  and  cast  our- 
selves entirely  upon  him.  As  the  whoh*  attention  of  life 
should  be  to  obey  his  commands;  so  the  highest  enjoy- 
ment of  it  must  arise  from  the  contem])laf  ion  of  ihis  eiia- 


160  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  [Ser.  XIII. 

racter,  and  our  relation  to  it,  from  a  consciousness  of  his 
favour  and  approbation,  and  from  the  exercise  of  those 
affections  towards  him  which  could  not  but  be  raised 
from  his  presence.  A  Being  who  hath  these  attributes, 
who  stands  in  this  relation,  and  is  thus  .sensibly  present 
to  the  mind,  must  necessarily  be  the  object  of  these  affec- 
tions: there  is  as  real  a  correspondence  between  them,  as 
between  the  lowest  appetite  of  sense  and  its  object. 

That  this  being  is  not  a  creature,  but  the  Almighty 
God;  that  he  is  of  infinite  power  and  wisdom  and  good- 
ness, does  not  render  him  less  the  object  of  reverence 
and  love,  than  he  would  be  if  he  had  those  attributes  only 
in  a  limited  degree.    The  being  who  made  us,  and  upon 
whom  we  entirely  depend,  is  the  object  of  some  regards. 
He  hath  given  us  certain  affections  of  mind,  which  cor- 
respond to  wisdom,  power,  goodness;  t.  e,  which  are 
raised  upon  view  of  those  qualities.    If  then  he  be  really 
wise,  powerful,  good;  he  is  the  natural  object  of  those 
affections,  which  he  has  endued  us  with,  and  which  cor- 
respond to  those  attributes.  That  he  is  infinite  in  power, 
perfect  in  wisdom  and  goodness,  makes  no  alteration,  but 
only  that  he  is  the  object  of  those  affections  raised  to  the 
highest  pitch.    He  is  not  indeed  to  be  discerned  by  any 
of  our  senses.    /  go  forward^  but  he  is  not  there;  and 
backward^  but  I  cannot  perceive  him:  on  the  left  hand  where 
he  doth  worky  but  I  cannot  behold  him :  he  hideth  himself 
on  the  right  hand,  that  I  cannot  see  him,    0  that  I  knew 
lohere  I  might  find  him  !  that  I  might  come  even  to  his 
seat!*    But  is  he  then  afar  off.^  does  he  not  fill  heaven 
and  earth  with  his  presence  ?    The  presence  of  our  fel-* 
low  creatures  affects  our  senses,  and  our  senses  give  us 
the  knowledge  of  their  presence;  which  hath  different 
kinds  of  influence  upon  us;  love,  joy,  sorrow,  restraint, 
encouragement,  reverence.     However  this  influence  is 
not  immediately  from  our  senses,  but  from  that  know- 
ledge.   Thus  suppose  a  person  neither  to  see  nor  hear 
another,  not  to  know  by  any  of  his  senses,  but  yet  cer- 
tainly to  know,  that  another  was  with  him;  this  know- 
ledge might,  and  in  many  cases  would,  have  one  or  more 
of  the  effects  before  mentioned.    It  is  therefore  not  only 

*  Jol).  xxii. 


S£5t.  XTIT.]  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  161 

reasonable,  but  also  natural,  to  be  affected  with  a  pre- 
sence, though  it  be  not  the  object  of  our  senses:  whether 
it  be,  or  be  not,  is  merely  an  accidental  circumstance, 
which  needs  not  come  into  consideration:  it  is  the  cer- 
tainty that  he  is  with  us,  and  we  with  him,  which  hath 
the  influence.  We  consider  persons  then  as  present, 
not  only  when  they  are  within  reach  of  our  senses,  but 
also  when  we  are  assured  by  any  other  means  that  they 
are  within  such  a  nearness;  nay,  if  they  are  not,  we  can 
recall  them  to  our  mind,  and  be  moved  towards  them  as 
present:  and  must  He,  who  is  so  much  more  intimately 
with  us,  that  in  him  we  live  and  move  and  have  our  heingy 
be  thought  too  distant  to  be  the  object  of  our  aff'ections  ? 
We  own  and  feel  the  force  of  amiable  and  worthy  qua- 
lities in  our  fellow  creatures:  and  can  we  be  insensible 
to  the  contemplation  of  perfect  goodness  ?  Do  we  reve- 
rence the  shadows  of  greatness  here  below,  are  we  soli-  § 
citous  about  honour  and  esteem  and  the  opinion  of  the 
world :  and  shall  Ave  not  feel  the  same  with  respect  to 
him,  whose  are  wisdom  and  power  in  their  original,  who 
is  the  God  of  judgment  hy  whom  actions  are  weighed? 
Thus  love,  reverence,  desire  of  esteem,  every  faculty, 
every  affection,  tends  towards,  and  is  employed  about  its 
respective  object  in  common  cases:  and  must  the  exer- 
cise of  them  be  suspended  with  regard  to  him  alone, 
who  is  an  object,  an  infinitely  more  than  adequate  object, 
to  our  most  exalted  facuUies;  him,  of  whom,  and  through 
whom,  and  to  vjhom  are  all  things 

As  we  cannot  remove  from  this  earth,  or  change  our 
general  business  on  it,  so  neither  can  we  alter  our  real 
nature.  Therefore  no  exercise  of  the  mind  can  be  re- 
commended, but  only  the  exercise  of  those  faculties  you 
are  conscious  of.  Religion  docs  not  demand  new  affec- 
tions, but  only  claims  the  direction  of  those  you  already 
have,  those  atliections  you  daily  feel;  though  unhappily 
confined  to  objects,  not  altogether  unsuitable,  but  alto- 
gether unequal  to  them.  We  only  represent  to  you  the 
higher,  the  adequate  objects  of  those  very  faculties  and 
affections.  Let  the  man  of  ambition  go  on  still  to  con- 
bi(l(M'  disgrace  as  the  greatest  evil;  honour,  as  his  chief 
good.    i3ut  disgrace,  in  whose  estimation  P    Honour,  lu 

ij 


162  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  [Ser.  XIII 

whose  judgment?  This  is  the  only  question.  If  shame 
and  delight  in  esteem,  be  spoken  of  as  real,  as  any  set- 
tled ground  of  pain  or  pleasure;  both  these  must  be  in 
•  proportion  to  the  supposed  wisdom  and  worth  of  him, 
by  whom  we  are  contemned  or  esteemed.  Must  it  then 
be  thought  enthusiastical  to  speak  of  a  sensibility  of  this 
sort,  which  shall  have  respect  to  an  unerring  judgment, 
to  infinite  wisdom;  when  we  are  assured  this  unerring- 
judgment,  this  infinite  wisdom,  does  observe  upon  our 
actions  P 

It  is  the  same  with  respect  to  the  love  of  God  in  the 
strictest  and  most  confined  sense.  We  onlv  offer  and 
represent  the  highest  object  of  an  affection,  supposed 
already  in  your  mind.  Some  degree  of  goodness  must 
be  previously  supposed:  this  always  implies  the  love  of 
itself,  an  affection  to  goodness:  the  highest,  the  adequate 
object  of  this  affection,  is  perfect  goodness;  which  there- 
fore we  are  to  love  with  all  our  heart,  vnth  all  our  soul, 
and  icith  all  our  strength.  Must  we,  then,  forgetting 
our  own  interest,  as  it  were  go  out  of  ourselves,  and 
love  God  for  his  own  sake  No  more  forget  your 
own  interest,  no  more  go  out  of  yourselves,  than  when 
you  prefer  one  place,  one  prospect,  the  conversation  of 
one  man  to  that  of  another.  Does  not  every  affection 
necessarily  imply,  that  the  object  of  it  be  itself  loved 
If  it  be  not,  it  is  not  the  object  of  the  affection.  Yoa 
may  and  ought  if  you  can,  but  it  is  a  great  mistake  to 
think  you  can  love  or  fear  or  hate  any  thing,  from  con- 
sideration that  such  love  or  fear  or  hatred  may  be  a 
means  of  obtaining  good  or  avoiding  evil.  But  the  ques- 
tion, whether  we  ought  to  love  God  for  his  sake  or  for 
our  own,  being  a  mere  mistake  in  language;  the  real 
question,  which  this  is  mistaken  for,  will,  I  suppose, 
be  answered  by  observing,  that  the  goodness  of  God 
already  exercised  towards  us,  our  present  dependence 
upon  him,  and  our  expectation  of  future  benefits,  ought, 
and  have  a  natural  tendency,  to  beget  in  us  the  affection 
of  gratitude,  and  greater  love  towards  him,  than  the  same 
goodness  exercised  towards  others:  were  it  only  for  this 
reason,  that  every  affection  is  moved  in  proportion  to 
the  sense  we  have  of  the  object  of  it;  and  we  cannot  but 


See.  XIV  ]  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  163 

have  a  more  lively  sense  of  goodness,  when  exercised 
towards  ourselves,  than  when  exercised  towards  others. 
I  added  expectation  of  future  benefits,  because  the  ground 
of  that  expectation  is  present  goodness. 

Thus  Almighty  God  is  the  natural  object  of  the  seve- 
ral affections,  love,  reverence,  fear,  desire  of  approbation. 
For  though  he  is  simply  one,  yet  we  cannot  but  consider 
him  in  partial  and  different  views.  He  is  in  himself  one 
uniform  being,  and  for  ever  the  same  without  variable- 
ness or  shadow  of  turning:  but  his  infinite  greatness,  his 
goodness,  his  wisdom,  are  different  objects  to  our  mind. 
To  which  is  to  be  added,  that  from  the  changes  in  our 
characters,  together  with  his  unchangeableness,  we  can- 
not but  consider  ourselves  as  more  or  less  the  objects  of 
his  approbation,  and  really  be  so.  For  if  he  approves 
what  is  good,  he  cannot,  merely  from  the  unchangeable- 
ness of  his  nature,  approve  what  is  evil.  Hence  must 
arise  more  various  movements  of  mind,  more  different 
kinds  of  affections.  And  this  greater  variety  also  is  just 
and  reasonable  in  such  creatures  as  we  are,  though  it 
respects  a  Being  simply  one,  good  and  perfect.  As  some 
of  these  affections  are  most  particularly  suitable  to  so 
imperfect  a  creature  as  man,  in  this  mortal  state  we  are 
passing  through;  so  there  may  be  other  exercises  of 
mind,  or  some  of  these  in  higher  degrees,  our  employ- 
ment and  happiness  in  a  state  of  perfection. 


SERMON  XIV 

Consider  then  our  ignorance,  the  imperfection  of  our 
nature,  our  virtue  and  our  condition  in  this  world,  with 
respect  to  an  infinitely  good  and  just  Being,  our  Creator 
and  Governor;  and  you  will  sec  what  religious  affections 
of  mind  are  most  particularly  suitable  to  this  mortal  state 
we  are  passing  through. 

Though  we  are  not  affected  with  any  thing  so  strongly, 
as  what  we  discern  with  our  senses;  and  though  our 
nature  and  condition  require,  that  we  be  much  taken  up 
about  sensible  things;  yet  our  reason  convinces  us  (hat 


164  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  [Ser.  XIV. 

God  is  present  with  us,  and  we  see  and  feel  the  effects 
of  his  goodness:  he  is  therefore  the  object  of  some 
regards.  The  imperfection  of  our  virtue,  joined  with  the 
consideration  of  his  absolute  rectitude  or  hohness,  will 
scarce  permit  that  perfection  of  love,  which  entirely  casts 
out  all  fear:  yet  goodness  is  the  object  of  love  to  all 
creatures  who  have  any  degree  of  it  themselves;  and 
consciousness  of  a  real  endeavour  to  approve  ourselves 
to  him,  joined  with  the  consideration  of  his  goodness,  as 
it  quite  excludes  servile  dread  and  horror,  so  it  is  plainly 
a  reasonable  ground  for  hope  of  his  favour.  Neither 
fear,  nor  hope,  nor  love  then  are  excluded :  and  one  or 
another  of  these  will  prevail,  according  to  the  difterent 
views  we  have  of  God;  and  ought  to  prevail,  according 
to  the  changes  we  find  in  our  own  character.  There  is 
a  temper  of  mind  made  up  of,  or  which  follows  from  all 
three,  fear,  hope,  love;  namely,  resignation  to  the  divine 
will,  which  is  the  general  temper  belonging  to  this  state ; 
which  ought  to  be  the  habitual  frame  of  our  mind  and 
heart,  and  to  be  exercised  at  proper  seasons  more  dis- 
tinctly, in  acts  of  devotion. 

Resignation  to  the  will  of  God  is  the  whole  of  piety: 
it  includes  in  it  all  that  is  good,  and  is  a  source  of  the 
most  settled  quiet  and  composure  of  mind.  There  is 
tlie  general  principle  of  submission  in  our  nature.  Man 
is  not  so  constituted  as  to  desire  things,  and  be  uneasy 
in  the  want  of  them,  in  proportion  to  their  known  value : 
many  other  considerations  come  in  to  determine  the 
degrees  of  desire ;  particularly  whether  the  advantage  we 
take  a  view  of  be  within  the  sphere  of  our  rank.  Who 
tever  felt  uneasiness,  upon  observing  any  of  the  advan- 
tages brute  creatures  have  over  us  ?  And  yet  it  is  plain 
they  have  several.  It  is  the  same  with  respect  to  advan- 
tages belonging  to  creatures  of  a  superior  order.  Thus, 
though  we  see  a  thing  to  be  highly  valuable,  yet  that  it 
does  not  belong  to  our  condition  of  being,  is  sufficient  to 
suspend  our  desires  after  it,  to  make  us  rest  satisfied 
without  such  advantage.  Now  there  is  just  the  same 
reason  for  quiet  resignation  in  the  want  of  every  thing 
equally  unattainable,  and  out  of  our  reach  in  particular, 
though  others  of  our  species  be  possessed  of  it.    All  this 


Seh.  XIV.]  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  165- 

may  be  applied  to  the  whole  of  life;  to  positive  incon- 
veniences as  well  as  wants ;  not  indeed  to  the  sensations  of 
pain  and  sorrow,  but  to  all  the  uneasinesses  of  reflection, 
murmuring,  and  discontent.  Thus  is  human  nature 
formed  to  compliance,  yielding,  submission  of  temper. 
We  find  the  principles  of  it  within  us;  and  every  one 
exercises  it  towards  some  objects  or  other;  i.e.  feels  it 
with  regard  to  some  persons,  and  some  circumstances. 
Now  this  is  an  excellent  foundation  of  a  reasonable  and 
religious  resignation.  Nature  teaches  and  inchnes  us  to 
take  up  with  our  lot:  the  consideration,  that  the  course 
of  things  is  unalterable,  hath  a  tendency  to  quiet  the  mind 
under  it,  to  beget  a  submission  of  temper  to  it.  But  ' 
when  we  can  add,  bhat  this  unalterable  course  is  appointed 
and  continued  by  infinite  wisdom  and  goodness;  how 
absolute  should  be  our  submission,  how  entire  our  trust 
and  dependence! 

This  would  reconcile  us  to  our  condition;  prevent  aM 
the  supernumerary  troubles  arising  from  imagination^ 
distant  fears,  impatience;  aU  uneasiness,  except  that 
which  necessarily  arises  from,  the  calamities  themselves 
we  may  be  under.  How  many  of  our  cares  should  we 
by  this  means  be  disburdened  of!  Cares  not  properly 
our  own,  how  apt  soever  they  may  be  to  intrude  upon 
us,  and  we  to  admit  them ;  the  anxieties  of  expectation, 
solicitude  about  success  and  disappointment,  which  in 
truth  are  none  of  our  concern.  How  open  to  every 
gratification  would  that  mind  be,  which  was  clear  of  these 
encum])rances! 

Our  resignation  to  the  will  of  God  may  be  said  to  be 
perfect,  when  our  will  is  lost  and  resolved  up  into  his; 
when  we  rest  in  his  will  as  our  end,  as  being  itself  most 
just,  and  right,  and  good.  And  where  is  the  impossibility 
ef  such  an  affection  to  what  is  just,  and  right,  and  good, 
such  a  loyalty  of  heart  to  the  Governor  of  the  universes 
as  shall  prevail  over  all  sinister  indirect  desires  of  our 
own?  Neither  is  this  at  bottom  any  thing  more  than 
faith,  and  honesty,  and  fairness  of  mind;  in  a  more  en- 
larged sense  indeed,  than  those  words  are  commonly 
used.  And  as  in  common  cases,  fear  and  hope  and 
other  passions  arc  raised  in  us  by  their  respective 


166  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  [Seh.  XIV 

objects:  so  this  submission  of  heart  and  soul  and  mind, 
this  rehgious  resignation,  would  be  as  naturally  produced 
by  our  having  just  conceptions  of  Almighty  God,  and  a 
real  sense  of  his  presence  with  us.  In  how  low  a  degree 
soever  this  temper  usually  prevails  amongst  men,  yet  it  is 
a  temper  right  in  itself:  it  is  what  we  owe  to  our  Creator; 
it  is  particularly  suitable  to  our  mortal  condition,  and 
what  we  should  endeavour  after  for  our  own  sakes  in 
our  passage  through  such  a  world  as  this;  where  is 
nothing  upon  which  we  can  rest  or  depend;  nothing  but 
what  we  are  liable  to  be  deceived  and  disappointed  in. 
Thus  we  might  acquaint  ourselves  with  God,  and  he  at 
*  'peace.  This  is  piety  and  religion  in  the  strictest  sense, 
considered  as  an  habit  of  mind;  an  habitual  sense  of 
God's  presence  with  us;  being  affected  towards  him,  as 
present,  in  the  manner  his  superior  nature  requires  from 
such  a  creature  as  man:  tlus  is  to  walk  with  God. 

Little  more  need  be  said  of  devotion  or  religious  wor- 
ship, than  that  it  is  this  temper  exerted  into  act.  The 
nature  of  it  consists  in  the  actual  exercise  of  those  affec- 
tions towards  God,  which  are  supposed  habitual  in  good 
men.  He  is  always  equally  present  with  us:  but  we  are 
so  much  taken  up  with  sensible  things,  that  Loy  he  goeth 
by  us,  and  we  see  him  not :  he  passeth  on  also,  but  we  per- 
ceive him  not*  Devotion  is  retirement,  from  the  world 
he  has  made,  to  him  alone :  it  is  to  withdraw  from  the 
avocations  of  sense,  to  employ  our  attention  wholly  upon 
him  as  upon  an  object  actually  present,  to  yield  ourselves 
up  to  the  influence  of  the  divine  presence,  and  to  give 
fall  scope  to  the  affections  of  gratitude,  love,  reverence,, 
trust,  and  dependence;  of  which  infinite  power,  wisdom, 
and  goodness,  is  the  natural  and  only  adequate  object. 
We  may  apply  to  the  whole  of  devotion  those  words  of 
the  son  of  Sirach,  When  you  glorify  the  Lord,  exalt  lam 
as  much  as  you  can;  for  even  yet  will  he  far  exceed;  and 
when  you  exalt  him,  put  forth  alt  your  strength,  and  be 
not  weary;  for  you  can  never  go  far  enough.'^  Our  most 
raised  affections  of  every  kind  cannot  but  fall  short  and 
be  disproportionate,  when  an  infinite  Being  is  the  object 
of  them.   This  is  the  highest  exercise  and  employment  of 

*  Joli  ix.  11.  t  Efclus.  xliii.  30. 


Ser.  XIV^1  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  1G7 

mind  that  a  creature  is  capable  of.  As  this  divine  service 
and  worship  is  itself  absolutely  due  to  God,  so  also  is  it 
necessary  in  order  to  a  further  end,  to  keep  ahve  upon 
our  minds  a  sense  of  his  authority,  a  sense  that  in  our 
ordinary  behaviour  amongst  men  we  act  under  him  as 
our  governor  and  judge. 

Thus  you  see  the  temper  of  mind  respecting  God, 
w^hich  is  particularly  suitable  to  a  state  of  imperfection; 
to  creatures  in  a  progress  of  being  towards  somewhat 
further. 

Suppose  now  this  something  further  attained;  that  we 
were  arrived  at  it:  what  a  perception  will  it  be,  to  see 
and  know  and  feel  that  our  trust  w^as  not  vain,  our  de- 
pendence not  groundless?  that  the  issue,  event,  and 
consummation  came  out  such  as  fully  to  justify  and 
answer  that  resignation.^  If  the  obscure  view  of  the 
divine  perfection,  which  we  have  in  this  world,  ought  in 
just  consequence  to  beget  an  entire  resignation;  what 
will  this  resignation  be  exalted  into,  when  we  shall  see 
face  to  facey  and  know  as  ice  are  known ^  If  we  cannot 
form  any  distinct  notion  of  that  perfection  of  the  love  of 
God,  which  casts  out  all  fear;  of  that  enjoyment  of  him, 
which  will  be  the  happiness  of  good  men  hereafter;  the 
consideration  of  our  wants  and  capacities  of  happiness, 
and  that  he  wmU  be  an  adequate  supply  to  them,  must 
serve  us  instead  of  such  distinct  conception  of  the  parti- 
cular happiness  itself. 

Let  us  then  suppose  a  man  entirely  disengaged  from 
business  and  pleasure,  sitting  down  alone  and  at  leisure, 
to  reflect  upon  himself  and  his  own  condition  of  being. 
He  would  immediately  feel  that  he  was  by  no  means 
complete  of  himself,  but  totally  insufficient  for  his  own 
happiness.  One  may  venture  to  athrm,  that  every  man 
hath  felt  this,  whether  he  hath  again  reflected  upon  it  or 
not.  It  is  feeling  this  deflciency,  that  they  arc  unsatis- 
fied with  themselves,  whicli  makes  men  look  out  for 
assistance  from  abroad;  and  which  has  given  rise  to 
various  kinds  of  amusements,  altogether  needless  any 
otherwise  than  as  they  serve  to  All  up  tlie  blank  spaces 
of  time,  and  so  hinder  their  feeling  this  deficiency,  and 
being  uneasy  with  themselves.    Now,  if  these  external 


168  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  [Seb.  XIV; 

things  we  take  up  with  were  really  an  adequate  supply- 
to  this  deficiency  of  human  nature,  if  by  their  means  our 
capacities  and  desires  were  all  satisfied  and  filled  up  ; 
then  it  might  be  truly  said,  that  we  had  found  out  the 
proper  happiness  of  man;  and  so  might  sit  down  satisfied, 
and  be  at  rest  in  the  enjoyment  of  it.     But  if  it 
appears,  that  the  amusements,  which  men  usually  pass 
their  time  in,  are  so  far  from  coming  up  to  or  answering 
our  notions  and  desires  of  happiness,  or  good,  that  they 
are  really  no  more  than  what  they  are  commonly  called, 
somewhat  to  pass  away  the  time ;  i.  e.  somewhat  which 
serves  to  turn  us  aside  from,  and  prevent  our  attending  to, 
this  our  internal  poverty  and  want ;  if  they  serve  only, 
or  chiefly,  to  suspend,  instead  of  satisfying  our  concep- 
tions and  desires  of  happiness  ;  if  the  want  remains,  and 
we  have  found  out  little  more  than  barely  the  means  of 
making  it  less  sensible ;  then  are  we  still  to  seek  for 
somewhat  to  be  an  adequate  supply  to  it.     It  is  plain, 
that  there  is  a  capacity  in  the  nature  of  man,  whidi 
neither  riches,  nor  honours,  nor  sensual  gratifications,, 
nor  any  thing  in  this  world  can  perfectly  fill  up,  or  satisfy: 
there  is  a  deeper  and  more  essential  want,  than  any 
of  these  things  can  be  the  supply  of.    Yet  surely  there 
is  a  possibility  of  somewhat,  which  may  fill  up  all  our 
capacities  of  happiness  ;  somewhat,  in  which  our  souls 
may  find  rest;  somewhat,  which  may  be  to  us  that 
satisfactory  good  we  are  inquiring  after.    But  it  cannot 
be  any  thing  which  is  valuable  only  as  it  tends  to  some 
further  end.    Those  therefore  who  have  got  this  world  sc 
much  into  their  hearts,  as  not  to  be  able  to  consider  hap- 
piness as  consisting  in  any  thing  but  property  and  pos- 
sessions, which  are  only  valuable  as  the  means  to  soms- 
what  else,  cannot  have  the  least  glimpse  of  the  subject 
before  us ;  which  is  the  end,  not  the  means  ;  the  thing 
itself,  not  somewhat  in  order  to  it.    But  if  you  can  lay 
aside  that  general,  confused,  undeterminate  notion  of 
happiness,  as  consisting  in  such  possessions  ;  and  fix  in: 
vour  thoughts,  that  it  really  can  consist  in  nothing  but  in 
a  faculty's  having  its  proper  object ;  you  will  clearly  see, 
that  in  the  coolest  way  of  consideration,  without  either 
the  heat  of  fanci^'ul  enthusiasm,  or  the  warmth  of  real 


Ser.  XIV.]  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  l69 

devotion,  nothing  is  more  certain,  than  that  an  infinite 
Being  may  himself  be,  if  he  pleases,  the  supply  to  all  the 
capacities  of  our  nature.  All  the  common  enjoyments 
of  life  are  from  the  faculties  he  hath  endued  us  with,  and 
the  objects  he  hath  made  suitable  to  them.  He  may 
himself  be  to  us  infinitely  more  than  all  these  :  he  m.ay 
be  to  us  all  that  we  want.  As  our  understanding  can 
contemplate  itself,  and  our  affections  be  exercised  upon 
themselves  by  reflection,  so  may  each  be  employed  in 
the  same  manner  upon  any  other  mind :  and  since  the 
supreme  Mind,  the  Author  and  Cause  of  all  things,  is 
the  highest  possible  object  to  himself,  he  may  be  an 
adequate  supply  to  all  the  faculties  of  our  souls  ;  a  sub- 
ject to  our  understanding,  and  an  object  to  our  affections. 

Consider  then  :  when  we  shall  have  put  off  this  mor- 
tal body,  when  we  shall  be  divested  of  sensual  appetites, 
and  those  possessions  which  are  now  the  means  of  grati- 
fication shall  be  of  no  avail;  when  this  restless  scene  of 
business  and  vain  pleasures,  which  now  diverts  us  from 
ourselves,  shall  be  all  over ;  we,  our  proper  self,  shall 
still  remain  :  we  shall  still  continue  the  same  creatures 
we  are,  with  wants  to  be  supplied,  and  capacities  of 
happiness.  We  must  have  faculties  of  perception, 
though  not  sensitive  ones ;  and  pleasure  or  uneasiness 
from  our  perceptions,  as  now  we  have. 

There  are  certain  ideas,  which  we  express  bv  the 
words,  order,  harmony,  proportion,  beauty,  the  furthest 
removed  from  any  thing  sensual.  Now  what  is  there  in 
those  intellectual  images,  forms,  or  ideas,  which  begets 
that  approbation,  love,  delight,  and  even  rapture,  which 
is  seen  in  some  persons'  faces  upon  having  those  objects 
present  to  their  minds  — "Mere  enthusiasm!" — Be  it 
what  it  will :  there  are  objects,  works  of  nature  and  of 
art,  which  all  mankind  have  delight  from,  quite  distinct 
from  their  affording  gratification  to  sensual  appetites;  and 
from  quite  another  view  of  them,  than  as  being  for  their 
interest  and  further  advantage.  The  faculties  from  which 
we  are  capable  of  these  pleasures,  and  the  pleasures 
themselves,  are  as  natural,  and  as  much  to  be  accounted 
for,  as  any  sensual  appetite  whatever,  and  the  pleasure 
from  its  gratification.    Words  to  be  sure  are  wanting  upon 


170  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  [Ser.  XIV. 

this  subject:  to  say,  that  every  thing  of  grace  and  beauty, 
throughout  the  whole  of  nature,  every  thing  excellent 
and  amiable  shared  in  differently  low^er  degrees  by  the 
whole  creation,  meet  in  the  Author  and  Cause  of  all 
things;  this  is  an  inadequate,  and  perhaps  improper  way 
of  speaking  of  the  divine  nature :  but  it  is  manifest  that 
absolute  rectitude,  the  perfection  of  being,  must  be  in  all 
senses,  and  in  every  respect,  the  highest  object  to  the 
mind. 

In  this  world  it  is  only  the  effects  of  wisdom,  and  power, 
and  greatness,  which  we  discern  :  it  is  not  impossible,  that 
hereafter  the  qualities  themselves  in  the  supreme  Being 
may  be  the  immediate  object  of  contemplation.  What 
amazing  wonders  are  opened  to  view  by  late  improve- 
ments! What  an  object  is  the  universe  to  a  creature,  if 
there  be  a  creature  who  can  comprehend  its  system !  But  it 
must  be  an  infinitely  higher  exercise  of  the  understanding, 
to  view  the  scheme  of  it  in  that  mind,  which  projected  it, 
before  its  foundations  were  laid.  And  surely  we  have 
meaning  to  the  words,  when  we  speak  of  going  further; 
and  viewing,  not  only  this  system  in  his  mind,  but  the 
wisdom  and  intelligence  itself  from  w^hence  it  proceeded. 
The  same  may  be  said  of  power.  But  since  wisdom  and 
power  are  not  God,  he  is  a  wise,  a  powerful  Being;  the 
divine  nature  may  therefore  be  a  further  object  to  the 
understanding.  It  is  nothing  to  observe  that  our  senses 
give  us  but  an  imperfect  knowledge  of  things  :  effects 
themselves,  if  we  knew  them  thoroughly,  would  give  us 
but  imperfect  notions  of  wisdom  and  power ;  rrmch  less 
of  his  Being,  in  whom  they  reside.  I  am  not  speaking 
of  any  fanciful  notion  of  seeing  all  things  in  God ;  but 
only  representing  to  you,  how  much  an  higher  object  to 
the  understanding  an  infinite  Being  himself  is,  than  the 
things  which  he  has  made  :  and  this  is  no  more  than 
saying,  that  the  Creator  is  superior  to  the  w^orks  of  his 
hands. 

This  may  be  illustrated  by  a  low  example.  Suppose 
a  machine,  the  sight  of  which  would  raise,  and  discoveries 
in  its  contrivance  gratify,  our  curiosity:  the  real  delight, 
in  this  case,  would  arise  from  its  being  tlie  effect  of  skill 
and  contrivance.    This  skill  in  the  mind  of  the  artificer 


Ser.  XIV.]  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  171 

would  be  an  higher  object,  if  we  had  any  senses  or  ways 
to  discern  it.  For,  observe,  the  contemplation  of  that 
principle,  faculty,  or  power  which  produced  any  effect, 
must  be  an  higher  exercise  of  the  understanding,  than 
the  contemplation  of  the  effect  itself.  The  cause  must 
be  an  higher  object  to  the  mind  than  the  effect. 

But  whoever  considers  distinctly  what  the  light  of 
knowledge  is,  will  see  reason  to  be  satisfied  that  it  can- 
not be  the  chief  good  of  man:  all  this,  as  it  is  applicable, 
so  it  was  mentioned  with  regard  to  the  attribute  of  good- 
ness. I  say,  goodness.  Our  being  and  all  our  enjoy- 
ments are  the  effects  of  it:  just  men  bear  its  resemblance: 
but  how  little  do  we  know  of  the  original,  of  what  it  is  in 
itself.^  Recall  what  was  before  observed  concerning  the 
affection  to  moral  characters ;  which,  in  how  low  a  degree 
soever,  yet  is  plainly  natural  to  man,  and  the  most 
excellent  part  of  his  nature:  suppose  this  improved,  as  it 
may  be  improved,  to  any  degree  whatever,  in  the  spirits 
of  just  men  made  perfect;  and  then  suppose  that  they  had 
a  real  view  of  that  righteousness ^  ivhic/i  is  an  everlasting 
righteousness ;  of  the  conformity  of  the  divine  will  to  the 
law  of  truthy  in  which  the  moral  attributes  of  God  con- 
sist; of  that  goodness  in  the  sovereign  Mind,  which  gave 
birth  to  the  universe:  add,  what  will  be  true  of  all  good 
men  hereafter,  a  consciousness  of  having  an  interest  in 
what  they  are  contemplating;  suppose  them  able  to  say, 
This  God  is  our  God  for  ever  and  ever:  would  they  be 
any  longer  to  seek  for  what  was  their  chief  happiness, 
their  final  good.^  Could  the  utmost  stretch  of  their 
capacities  look  further. ^  Would  not  infinite  perfect 
goodness  be  their  very  end,  the  last  end  and  object  of 
their  affections;  beyond  which  they  could  neither  have, 
nor  desire;  beyond  which  they  could  not  form  a  wish  or 
thought? 

Consider  wherein  that  presence  of  a  friend  consists, 
which  has  often  so  strong  an  effect,  as  wholly  to  possess 
the  mind,  and  entirely  suspend  all  other  affections  and 
regards;  and  which  itself  affords  the  highest  satisfaction 
and  enjoyment.  He  is  within  reach  of  the  senses.  Now, 
as  our  capacities  of  perception  improve,  we  shall  have, 
perhaps  by  some  faculty  entn-ely  new,  a  perception  of 


172  UPON  THE  LOVE  OF  GOD.  [Skr.  XIV. 

Gods  presence  with  us  in  a  nearer  and  stricter  way ; 
since  it  is  certain  he  is  more  intimately  present  with  us 
than  any  thing  else  can  be.  Proof  of  the  existence  and 
presence  of  any  being  is  quite  different  from  the  immediate 
perception,  the  consciousness  of  it.  What  then  will  be 
the  joy  of  heart,  which  his  presence,  and  the  light  of  his 
countenance^  who  is  the  life  of  the  universe,  will  inspire 
good  men  with,  when  they  shall  have  a  sensation,  that 
he  is  the  sustainer  of  their  being,  that  they  exist  in  him; 
when  they  shall  feel  his  influence  to  cheer  and  enliven 
and  support  their  frame,  in  a  manner  of  which  we  have 
now  no  conception  He  will  be  in  a  literal  sense  their 
strength  and  their  portion  for  ever. 

"When  we  speak  of  things  so  much  above  our  compre- 
hension, as  the  employment  and  happiness  of  a  future 
state,  doubtless  it  behoves  us  to  speak  with  all  modesty 
and  distrust  of  ourselves.  But  the  Scripture  represents 
the  happiness  of  that  state  under  the  notions  of  seeing 
Gody  seeing  him  as  he  is,  knowing  as  we  are  known,  and 
seeing  face  to  face.  These  words  are  not  general  or 
undetermined,  but  express  a  particular  determinate 
happiness.  And  I  will  be  bold  to  say,  that  nothing  can 
account  for,  or  come  up  to  these  expressions,  but  only 
this,  that  God  himself  will  be  an  object  to  our  faculties, 
that  he  himself  wiW  be  our  happiness;  as  distinguished 
from  the  enjoyments  of  the  present  state,  which  seem  to 
arise,  not  immediately  from  him,  but  from  the  objects  he 
has  adapted  to  give  us  delight. 

To  conclude:  Let  us  suppose  a  person  tired  with  care 
and  sorrow  and  the  repetition  of  vain  delights  which  fill 
up  the  round  of  life;  sensible  that  every  thing  here  below 
in  its  best  estate  is  altogether  vanity.  Suppose  him  to 
feel  that  deficiency  of  human  nature,  before  taken  notice 
of;  and  to  be  convinced  that  God  alone  was  the  adequate 
supply  to  it.  What  could  be  more  applicable  to  a  good 
man  in  this  state  of  mind;  or  better  express  his  present: 
wants  and  distant  hopes,  his  passage  through  this  world 
as  a  progress  towards  a  state  of  perfection,  than  the 
following  passages  in  the  devotions  of  the  royal  prophet? 
They  are  plainly  in  an  higher  and  more  proper  sense 
applicable  to  this,  than  they  could  be  to  any  thing  else. 


Sa.  XV.]  UPON  THE  IGNORANCE  OF  MAN.  173 

/  have  seen  an  end  of  all  perfection.  Whom  have  I  in 
heaven  hut  thee?  And  there  is  none  upon  earth  that  I 
desire  in  comparison  of  thee.  My  flesh  and  my  heart  faileth  : 
but  God  is  the  strength  of  my  heart,  and  my  portion  for 
ever.  Like  as  the  hart  desireth  the  icaier-hrooks,  so  longeth 
my  soul  after  thee,  0  God.  My  soul  is  athirst  for  God, 
yea,  even  for  the  living  God:  when  shall  I  come  to  appear 
before  him?  How  excellent  is  thy  loving -kindness,  0  God! 
and  the  children  of  men  shall  put  their  trust  under  the 
shadow  of  thy  wings.  They  shall  be  satisfied  with  the 
plenteousness  of  thy  house :  and  thou  shall  give  them  drink 
of  thy  pleasures,  as  out  of  the  river.  For  with  thee  is  the 
well  of  life  :  and  in  thy  light  shall  2ve  see  light.  Blessed 
is  the  man  whom  thou  choosest,  and  receivest  unto  thee:  he 
shall  dwell  in  thy  court,  and  shall  be  satisfied  with  the 
pleasures  of  thy  house,  even  of  thy  holy  temple.  Blessed 
is  the  people,  0  Lord,  that  can  rejoice  in  thee:  they  shall 
walk  in  the  light  of  thy  countenance.  Their  delight  shall 
be  daily  in  thy  name,  and  in  thy  righteousness  shall  they 
make  their  boast.  For  thou  art  the  glory  of  their  strength: 
and  in  thy  loving-kindness  they  shall  be  exalted.  As  for 
me,  I  will  behold  thy  presence  in  righteousness:  and  when 
I  awake  up  after  thy  likeness,  I  shall  be  satisfied  with  it. 
Thou  shall  shew  me  the  path  of  life  ;  in  thy  presence  is  the 
fulness  of  joy,  and  at  thy  right  hand  there  is  pleasure  for 
evermore. 


SERMON  XV. 

UPON  THE  IGNORANCE  OF  MAN. 

When  I  applied  mine  heart  to  Imow  wisdom,  and  to  see  the  huslness 
that  is  done  upon  the  earth :  then  I  beheld  all  the  work  of  God,  that 
a  man  cannot  find  out  the  work  that  is  done  under  the  sun :  l)ecause 
though  a  man  labour  to  seek  it  out,  yet  he  shall  not  find  it;  yea 
further,  though  a  icise  man  think  to  know  it,  yet  shall  he  not  he 
able  to  find  it. — Eccles.  viii.  10,  17. 

The  writings  of  Solomon  are  very  much  taken  up  with 
reflections  upon  human  nature  and  human  life  ;  to  which 
he  hath  added,  in  this  book,  reflections  upon  the  consti- 


174  UPON  THE  IGNORANCE  OF  MAN.  [Skr.  XV. 

tution  of  things.  And  it  is  not  improbable,  that  the 
little  satisfaction  and  the  great  difficulties  he  met  with  in 
his  researches  into  the  general  constitution  of  nature, 
might  be  the  occasion  of  his  confining  himself,  so  much 
as  he  hath  done,  to  life  and  conduct.  However,  upon 
that  joint  review  he  expresses  great  ignorance  of  the 
works  of  God,  and  the  method  of  his  providence  in  the 
government  of  the  world;  great  labour  and  weariness  in 
the  search  and  observation  he  had  employed  himself 
about;  and  great  disappointment,  pain,  and  even  vexation 
of  mind,  upon  that  which  he  had  remarked  of  the  appear- 
ances of  things,  and  of  what  was  going  forward  upon  this 
earth.  This  whole  review  and  inspection,  and  the  result 
of  it,  sorrow,  perplexity,  a  sense  of  his  necessary  ignor- 
ance, suggests  various  reflections  to  his  mind.  But,  not- 
w^ithstanding  all  this  ignorance  and  dissatisfaction,  there 
is  somewhat  upon  which  he  assuredly  rests  and  depends ; 
somewhat,  which  is  the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter, 
and  the  only  concern  of  man.  Following  this  his  method 
and  train  of  reflection,  let  us  consider, 

I.  The  assertion  of  the  text,  the  ignorance  of  man;  that 
the  wisest  and  most  knowing  cannot  comprehend  the 
ways  and  works  of  God:  and  then, 

II.  What  are  the  just  consequences  of  this  observa- 
tion and  knowledge  of  our  own  ignorance,  and  the  re- 
flections which  it  leads  us  to, 

I.  The  wisest  and  most  knowing  cannot  comprehend 
the  works  of  God,  the  methods  and  designs  of  his  provi- 
dence in  the  creation  and  government  of  the  world. 

Creation  is  absolutely  and  entirely  out  of  our  depth, 
and  beyond  the  extent  of  our  utmost  reach.  And  yet  it 
is  as  certain  that  God  made  the  world,  as  it  is  certain 
that  eff'ects  must  have  a  cause.  It  is  indeed  in  general 
no  more  than  effects,  that  the  most  knowing  are 
acquainted  with:  for  as  to  causes,  they  are  as  entirely 
in  the  dark  as  the  most  ignorant.  What  are  the  laws 
by  which  matter  acts  upon  matter,  but  certain  effects; 
which  some,  having  observed  to  be  frequently  repeated, 
have  reduced  to  general  rules The  real  nature  and 
essence  of  beings  hkewise  is  what  we  are  altogether 
Ignorant  of.    All  these  things  are  so  entirely  out  of  our 


Shl  XV.]  UPON  THE  IGNORANCE  OF  MAN.  175 

reach,  that  we  have  not  the  least  ghmpse  of  them.  And 
we  know  Httle  more  of  ourselves,  than  we  do  of  the 
world  about  us:  how  we  were  made,  how  our  being  is 
continued  and  preserved,  what  the  faculties  of  our  minds 
are,  and  upon  what  the  power  of  exercisnig  them  depends. 
/  am  fearfully  and  wonderfully  made :  marvellous  are  thy 
works,  and  that  my  soul  knoweth  right  well.  Our  own 
nature,  and  the  objects  we  are  surrounded  with,  serve  to 
raise  our  curiosity ;  but  we  are  quite  out  of  a  condition  ol 
satisfying  it.  Every  secret  which  is  disclosed,  every 
discovery  which  is  made,  every  new  effect  which  is  brought 
to  view,  serves  to  convince  us  of  numberless  more  which 
remain  concealed,  and  which  we  had  before  no  suspicion 
of.  And  what  if  we  were  acquainted  with  the  whole 
creation,  in  the  same  way  and  as  thoroughly  as  we  are 
with  any  single  object  in  it.^  What  would  all  this  natural 
knowledge  amount  to  P  It  must  be  a  low  curiosity 
indeed  which  such  superficial  knowledge  could  satisfy. 
On  the  contrary,  would  it  not  serve  to  convince  us  of  our 
ignorance  still;  and  to  raise  our  desire  of  knowing  the 
nature  of  things  themselves,  the  author,  the  cause,  and 
the  end  of  them  ? 

As  to  the  government  of  the  world:  though  from 
consideration  of  the  final  causes  which  come  within  our 
knowledge;  of  characters,  personal  merit  and  demerit; 
of  the  favour  and  disapprobation,  which  respectively  are 
due  and  belong  to  the  righteous  and  the  wicked,  and 
which  therefore  must  necessarily  be  in  a  mind  which  sees 
things  as  they  really  are;  though,  I  say,  from  hence  we 
may  know  somewhat  concerning  the  designs  of  Providence 
in  the  government  of  tlie  world,  enougn  to  enforce  upon 
us  religion  and  the  practice  of  virtue :  yet,  since  the 
monarchy  of  the  universe  is  a  dominion  unlimited  in 
extent,  and  everlasting  in  duration  ;  the  general  system 
of  it  must  necessarily  be  quite  beyond  our  comprehension. 
And,  since  there  appears  such  a  subordination  and 
reference  of  the  several  parts  to  each  other,  as  to 
constitute  it  properly  one  administration  or  government ; 
we  cannot  have  a  thorough  knowledge  of  any  part, 
without  knowing  the  whole.  This  surely  i;houl(l  convince 
us,  that  we  are  much  less  competent  judges  of  the  very 


176  UPON  THE  IGNORANCE  OF  MAN.  [Seb.  XV. 

small  part  which  comes  under  our  notice  in  this  world, 
than  we  are  apt  to  imagine.  No  heart  can  think  upon 
these  things  worthily:  and  who  is  able  to  conceive  his  way  ? 
It  is  a  tempest  which  no  man  can  see:  for  the  most  part  of 
his  works  are  hid.  Who  can  declare  the  ivorks  of  his 
justice  ?  for  his  covenant  is  afar  off,  and  the  trial  of  all 
things  is  in  the  end :  i.  e.  The  dealings  of  God  with  the 
children  of  men  are  no-t  yet  completed,  and  cannot  be 
judged  of  by  that  part  w^hich  is  before  us.  ^8*0  that  a  man 
cannot  say.  This  is  worse  than  that :  for  in  time  they  shall 
he  well  approved.  Thy  faithfulness,  0  Lord,  reacheth  unto 
the  clouds :  thy  righteousness  standeth  like  the  strong 
mountains  :  thy  judgments  are  like  the  great  deep.  He  hath 
made  every  thing  beautiful  in  his  time :  also  he  hath  .set  the 
iDorld  in  their  heart;  so  that  no  man  can  find  out  the  vwrk 
that  God  maketh  from  the  beginning  to  the  end.  And  thus 
St  Paul  concludes  a  long  argument  upon  the  various 
dispensations  of  Providence:  0  the  depth  of  the  riches, 
both  of  the  wisdom  and  knowledge  of  God !  How  unsearch  - 
able are  his  judgments,  and  his  ways  past  finding  out !  For 
who  hath  known  the  mind  of  the  Lord  ^ 

Thus  the  scheme  of  Providence,  the  ways  and  works 
of  God,  are  too  vast,  of  too  large  extent  for  our  capacities. 
There  is,  as  I  may  speak,  such  an  expense  of  power, 
and  wisdom,  and  goodness,  in  the  formation  and 
government  of  the  world,  as  is  too  much  for  us  to  take 
in,  or  comprehend.  Power,  and  wisdom,  and  goodness, 
are  manifest  to  us  in  all  those  works  of  God,  which  come 
within  our  view:  but  there  are  likewise  infinite  stores  of 
each  poured  forth  throughout  the  immensity  of  the 
creation ;  no  part  of  which  can  be  thoroughly  understood, 
without  taking  in  its  reference  and  respect  to  the  whole: 
and  this  is  what  we  have  not  faculties  for. 

And  as  the  works  of  God,  and  his  scheme  of  govern- 
ment, are  above  our  capacities  thoroughly  to  comprehend: 
so  there  possibly  may  be  reasons  which  originally  made 
it  fit  that  many  things  should  be  concealed  from  us,  which 
we  have  perhaps  natural  capacities  of  understanding; 
many  things  concerning  the  designs,  methods,  and  ends 
of  divine  Providence  in  the  government  of  the  world. 
There  is  no  manner  of  absurdity  in  supposing  a  veil  on 


SER.XV.]  UPON  THE  IGNORANCE  OF  MAN.  177 

purpose  drawn  over  some  scenes  of  infinite  power, 
wisdom,  and  goodness,  the  sight  of  which  might  some 
way  or  other  strike  us  too  strongly;  or  that  better  ends 
are  designed  and  served  by  their  being  concealed,  than 
could  be  by  their  being  exposed  to  our  knowledge.  The 
Almighty  may  cast  clouds  and  darkness  round  about  him, 
for  reasons  and  purposes  of  which  we  have  not  the  least 
glimpse  or  conception. 

However,  it  is  surely  reasonable,  and  what  might  have 
been  expected,  that  creatures  in  some  stage  of  their  being, 
suppose  in  the  infancy  of  it,  should  be  placed  in  a  state 
of  discipline  and  improvement,  where  their  patience  and 
submission  is  to  be  tried  by  afflictions,  where  temptations 
are  to  be  resisted,  and  difficulties  gone  through  in  the 
discharge  of  their  duty.  Now  if  the  greatest  pleasures 
and  pains  of  the  present  life  may  be  overcome  and 
suspended,  as  they  manifestly  may,  by  hope  and  fear, 
and  other  passions  and  affections;  then  the  evidence  of 
religion,  and  the  sense  of  the  consequences  of  virtue  and 
vice,  might  have  been  such,  as  entirely  in  all  cases  to 
prev<ail  over  those  afflictions,  difficulties,  and  temptations; 
prevail  over  them  so,  as  to  render  them  absolutely  none 
at  all.  But  the  very  notion  itself  now  mentioned,  of  a 
state  of  discipline  and  improvement,  necessarily  excludes 
such  sensible  evidence  and  conviction  of  religion,  and  of 
the  consequences  of  virtue  and  vice.  "  Religion  consists 
in  submission  and  resignation  to  the  divine  will.  Our 
condition  in  this  world  is  a  school  of  exercise  for  this 
temper:  and  our  ignorance,  the  shallowness  of  our  reason, 
the  temptations,  difficulties,  afflictions,  which  we  are 
exposed  to,  ali  equally  contribute  to  make  it  so.  The 
general  observation  may  be  carried  on;  and  whoever  will 
attend  to  the  thing  will  plainly  see,  that  less  sensible 
evidence,  with  less  difficulty  in  ])ractice,  is  the  same,  as 
more  sensi})le  evidence,  with  greater  difficulty  in  practice. 
Tliercfore  difficulties  in  speculation  as  much  come  into 
the  notion  of  a  state  of  discipline,  as  difficulties  in  practice: 
and  so  tlie  same  n  ason  or  account  is  to  be  given  of  both. 
Thus,  though  it  is  indeed  ai)surd  to  talk  of  the  greater 
merit  of  assent,  upon  little  or  no  evidence,  than  upon 
demonstration;  yet  the  strict  discharge  of  our  duty,  with 


178  UPON  THE  IGNORANCE  OF  MAN  [Ser.  XV.. 

less  sensible  evidence,  does  imply  in  it  a  better  character, , 
than  the  same  dihgence  in  the  discharge  of  it  upon  more 
sensible  evidence.  This  fully  accounts  for  and  explains 
that  assertion  of  our  Saviour,  Blessed  are  they  that  have 
7iot  seen,  and  yet  have  believed;*  have  become  Christians 
and  obeyed  the  gospel  upon  less  sensible  evidence  than 
that  which  Thomas,  to  whom  he  is  speaking,  insisted 
upon. 

But  after  all,  the  same  account  is  to  be  given,  why  we 
were  placed  in  these  circumstances  of  ignorance,  as  why 
nature  has  not  furnished  us  with  wings;  namely,  that  we 
were  designed  to  be  inhabitants  of  this  earth.  I  am 
afraid  we  think  too  highly  of  ourselves;  of  our  rank  ia 
the  creation,  and  of  what  is  due  to  us.  What  sphere  of 
action,  what  business  is  assigned  to  man,  that  he  has  not 
capacities  and  knowledge  fully  equal  to  ?  It  is  manifest 
he  has  reason,  and  knowledge,  and  faculties  superior  to 
the  business  of  the  present  world:  faculties  which  appear 
superfluous,  if  we  do  not  take  in  the  respect  which  they 
have  to  somewhat  further,  and  beyond  it.  If  to  acquire 
knowledge  were  our  proper  end,  we  should  indeed  be 
but  poorly  provided:  but  if  somewhat  else  be  our  busi- 
ness and  duty,  we  may,  notwithstanding  our  ignorapce, 
be  well  enough  furnished  for  it;  and  the  observation  of 
our  ignorance  may  be  of  assistance  to  us  in  the  dis- 
charge of  it. 

IL  Let  us  then  consider,  what  are  the  consequences 
of  this  knowledge  and  observation  of  our  own  ignorance, 
and  the  reflection  it  leads  us  to. 

First,  We  may  learn  from  it,  with  what  temper  of 
mind  a  man  ought  to  inquire  into  the  subject  of  religion; 
namely,  with  expectation  of  finding  difficulties,  and  with 
a  disposition  to  take  up  and  rest  satisfied  with  any  evi- 
dence whatever,  which  is  real. 

He  should  beforehand  expect  things  mysterious,  and 
such  as  he  will  not  be  able  thoroughly  to  comprehend, 
or  go  to  the  bottom  of.  To  expect  a  distinct  compre- 
hensive view  of  the  whole  subject,  clear  of  difficulties 
and  objections,  is  to  forget  our  nature  and  condition; 
neither  of  which  admit  of  such  knowledge,  with  respect 

*  John  XX.  29. 


Ser.  XV.] 


UPON  THE  IGNORANCE  OF  MAN. 


179 


to  any  science  whatever.  And  to  inquire  with  this 
expectation,  is  not  to  inquire  as  a  man,  but  as  one  of 
another  order  of  creatures. 

Due  sense  of  the  general  ignorance  of  man  would  also 
beget  in  us  a  disposition  to  take  up  and  rest  satisfied 
with  any  evidence  whatever,  which  is  real.  I  mention 
this  as  the  contrary  to  a  disposition,  of  which  there  are 
not  wanting  instances,  to  find  fault  with  and  reject  evi- 
dence, because  it  is  not  such  as  was  desired.  If  a  man 
were  to  walk  by  twilight,  must  he  not  follow  his  eyes  as 
much  as  if  it  were  broad  day  and  clear  sunshine  ?  Or 
if  he  were  obliged  to  take  a  journey  by  night,  would  he 
not  give  heed  to  any  light  shining  in  the  darkness,  till  the 
day  should  break  and  the  day-star  arise  ?  It  would  not 
be  altogether  unnatural  for  him  to  reflect  how  much 
better  it  were  to  have  daylight;  he  might  perhaps  have 
great  curiosity  to  see  the  country  round  about  him ;  he 
might  lament  that  the  darkness  concealed  many  extended 
prospects  from  his  eyes,  and  wish  for  the  sun  to  draw 
away  the  veil:  but  how  ridiculous  would  it  be  to«reject 
with  scorn  and  disdain  the  guidance  and  direction  which 
that  lesser  light  might  afford  him,  because  it  was  not  the 
sun»  itself!  If  the  make  and  constitution  of  man,  the 
circumstances  he  is  placed  in,  or  the  reason  of  things 
affords  the  least  hint  or  intimation,  that  virtue  is  the  law 
he  is  born  under;  scepticism  itself  should  lead  him  to 
the  most  strict  and  inviolable  practice  of  it;  that  he  may 
not  make  the  dreadful  experiment,  of  leaving  the  course 
of  life  marked  out  for  him  by  nature,  whatever  that 
nature  be,  and  entering  paths  of  his  own,  of  which  he 
can  know  neither  the  dangers,  nor  the  end.  For  though 
no' danger  be  seen,  yet  darkness,  ignorance,  and  blind- 
n(  ss  are  no  manner  of  security. 

Secondly,  Our  ignorance  is  the  proper  answer  to  many 
things,  which  are  called  obj(  ctions  against  religion;  par- 
ticularly, to  those  which  arise  from  the  appearances  of 
evil  and  irregularity  in  the  constitution  of  nature  and  the 
government  of  the  world.  In  all  other  cases  it  is  thought 
necessary  to  be  thoroughly  acquainted  with  the  whole  of 
a  scheme,  even  one  of  so  narrow  a  compass  as  those 
which  are  formed  by  men,  in  order  to  judge  of  the  good- 

M  3 


180 


UPON  THE  IGNORANCE  OF  MAN. 


[Ser.  XV. 


ness  or  badness  of  it:  and  the  most  slight  and  superficial 
view  of  any  human  contrivance  comes  abundantly  nearer 
to  a  thorough  knowledge  of  it,  than  that  part,  which  we 
know  of  the  government  of  the  world,  does  to  the  general 
scheme  and  system  of  it;  to  the  whole  set  of  laws  by 
which  it  is  governed.  From  our  ignorance  of  the  con- 
stitution of  things,  and  the  scheme  of  Providence  in  the 
government  of  the  world;  from  the  reference  the  several 
parts  have  to  each  other,  and  to  the  whole;  and  from 
our  not  being  able  to  see  the  end  and  the  whole;  it 
follows,  that  however  perfect  things  are,  they  must  even 
necessarily  appear  to  us  otherwise  less  perfect  than  they 
are.* 

Thirdly,  Since  the  constitution  of  nature,  and  the 
methods  and  designs  of  Providence  in  the  government  of 
the  w^orld,  are  above  our  comprehension,  we  should 
acquiesce  in,  and  rest  satisfied  with,  our  ignorance,  turn 
our  thoughts  from  that  which  is  above  and  beyond  us, 
and  apply  ourselves  to  that  which  is  level  to  our  capa- 
cities, and  which  is  our  real  business  and  concern. 
Knowledge  is  not  our  proper  happiness.  Whoever  will 
in  the  least  attend  to  the  thing  will  see,  that  it  is  the 

*  Suppose  some  very  cojnplicated  piece  of  ivor/c,  some  srjstem  or  constitution,  formed 
for  some  general  end,  to  which  eacli  of  the  parts  \vm\  a  r^Ji-rence.  Tlie  perfection  or 
justness  of  this  work  or  constitution  would  consist  in  the  n  fciv  nee  and  respect,  which 
the  several  parts  have  to  the  general  design.  Tliis  r^  fen  nce  of  parts  to  tlie  geneial 
design  may  be  infinitely  various,  both  in  degree  and  kind.  Tims  one  part  may  only 
contribute  and  be  subservient  to  another;  this  to  a  third  ;  and  so  on  throush  a  long 
series,  the  last  part  of  which  alone  may  contribute  imnu-diatt  ly  and  directly  to  tlie 
general  design.  Or  a  part  may  have  this  distant  reference  to  the  general  design, 
and  may  also  contribute  inunediately  to  it.  For  instance  :  it'  the  general  design  or 
end,  for  which  the  complicated  frame  of  nature  was  brought  into  being,  is  happiiu-ss; 
whatever  aft'ords  present  satisfaction,  and  likewise  temls  to  carry  on  the  course  of 
things,  hath  this  double  respect  to  the  general  design.  Now  suppose  a  spectator  of 
that  work  or  constitution  was  in  a  great  measure  ignorant  of  such  various  reference 
to  the  general  end,  whatever  that  end  be;  and  that,  upon  a  very  slight  and  jiartial 
view  which  he  had  of  the  work,  several  tilings  appeared  to  his  eye  disproportionat*'  and 
wrong  ;  others,  just-  and  beautiful  ;  what  would  he  gather  from  thrse  appearances? 
He  would  imnu'diately  conclude  there  was  a  probability,  if  he  could  see  the  whole 
reference  of  the  parts  appearing  wrong  to  the  general  design,  that  this  woulil  destroy 
the  appearance  of  wrongiu-ss  and  disproportion:  but  there  is  no  probal)ility,  that  the 
reference  would  destroy  the  particular  right  appearances,  though  that  reference 
might  show  the  things  already  appearing  just,  to  be  so  likewise  in  a  higher  degree 
or  another  manner.  There  is  a  probaI)ility,  that  the  right  appearances  were  intended: 
there  is  no  probability,  that  the  wrong  appearances  were.  We  cannot  suspect 
irregularity  and  disorder  to  be  designed.  The  pillars  of  a  building  appear  beautiful  ; 
but  their  being  likewise  its  support  does  not  destroy  that  beauty  :  there  still  remains 
a  reason  to  believe  that  the  architect  intended  the  beautiful  appearance,  after  we 
have  found  out  the  reference,  support.  It  would  be  reasonable  for  &  mau  of  himseil 
to  think  thus,  upon  the  first  piece  of  architecture  he  ever  saw. 


Ser.  XV.]  UPON  THE  IGNORANCE  OF  MAN.  181 

gaining,  not  the  having  of  it,  which  is  the  entertainment 
of  the  mind.  Indeed,  if  the  proper  happiness  of  man 
consisted  in  knowledge  considered  as  a  possession  or 
treasure,  men  who  are  possessed  of  the  largest  share 
would  have  a  very  ill  time  of  it;  as  they  would  be 
infinitely  more  sensible  than  others  of  their  poverty  in  this 
respect.  Thus  he  v:ho  increases  knowledge  would  emi- 
nently increase  sorrow.  Men  of  deep  research  and  curious 
inquiry  should  just  be  put  in  mind,  not  to  mistake  what 
they  are  doing.  If  their  discoveries  serve  the  cause  of 
virtue  and  religion,  in  the  way  of  proof,  motive  to  prac- 
tice, or  assistance  in  it;  or  if  they  tend  to  render  life  less 
unhappy,  and  promote  its  satisfactions ;  then  they  are 
most  usefully  employed:  but  bringing  things  to  lights 
alone  and  of  itself,  is  of  no  manner  of  use,  any  otherwise 
than  as  entertainment  or  diversion.  Neither  is  this  at 
all  amiss,  if  it  does  not  take  up  the  time  which  should 
be  employed  in  better  work.  But  it  is  evident  that 
there  is  another  mark  set  up  for  us  to  aim  at;  another 
'end  appointed  us  to  direct  our  lives  to:  another  end, 
vvhich  the  most  knowing  may  fail  of,  and  the  most 
ignorant  arrive  at.  The  secret  things  belong  unto  the 
Lord  our  God;  hid  those  things  which  are  revealed  belong 
unto  uSj  and  to  our  children  for  ever,  that  loe  may  do  all  the 
words  of  this  law.  Which  reflection  of  Moses,  put  in 
general  terms,  is,  that  the  only  knowledge,  which  is  of 
any  avail  to  us,  is  that  which  teaches  us  our  duty,  or 
assists  us  in  the  discharge  of  it.  The  economy  of  the 
universe,  the  course  of  nature,  almiglity  power  exerted 
in  the  creation  and  government  of  the  world,  is  out  of 
our  reach.  What  would  be  the  consequence,  if  we 
could  really  get  an  insight  into  these  things,  is  very 
uncertain;  whether  it  would  assist  us  in,  cr  divert  us 
from,  what  we  have  to  do  in  this  present  state.  If 
then  there  be  a  sphere  of  knowledge,  of  contempla- 
tion and  employment,  level  to  our  capacities,  and  of 
the  utmost  importance  to  us;  we  ought  surely  to  apply 
ourselves  with  all  diligence  to  this  our  pro])cr  business, 
and  esteem  every  thing  else  nothing,  nothing  as  to  us, 
in  comparison  of  it.  Thus  Job,  discoursing  of  natural 
knowledge,  how  much  it  is  above  us,  and  of  wisdom 


182  UPON  THE  IGNORANCE  OF  MAN.  [Ssb.  XV. 

in  general,  says,  God  understandeth  the  way  thereof, 
and  he  knoweth  the  place  thereof.  And  unto  man  he 
said.  Behold,  the  fear  of  the  Lord,  that  is  icisdom, 
and  to  depart  from  evil  is  understanding.  Other  orders 
of  creatures  may  perhaps  be  let  into  the  secret  counsels 
of  heaven;  and  have  the  designs  and  methods  of  Provi  - 
dence, in  the  creation  and  government  of  the  world, 
communicated  to  them:  but  this  does  not  belong  to  our 
rank  or  condition.  The  fear  of  the  Lord,  and  to  depart 
from  evil,  is  the  only  wisdom  which  man  should  aspire 
after,  as  his  work  and  business.  The  same  is  said,  and 
with  the  same  connexion  and  context,  in  the  conclusion 
of  the  book  of  Ecclesiastes.  Our  ignorance,  and  the 
little  we  can  know  of  other  things,  affords  a  reason  why 
we  should  not  perplex  ourselves  about  them;  but  no 
way  invalidates  that  which  is  the  conclusion  of  the  whoh 
matter.  Fear  God,  and  keep  his  commandments  ;  for  this 
is  the  ichole  concern  of  man.  So  that  Socrates  was  not 
the  first  who  endeavoured  to  draw  men  off  from  labour- 
ing after,  and  laying  stress  upon  other  knowledge,  in 
comparison  of  that  which  related  to  morals.  Our  pro- 
vince is  virtue  and  religion,  life  and  manners;  the  science 
of  improving  the  temper,  and  making  the  heart  better. 
This  is  the  field  assigned  us  to  cultivate :  how  much  it 
has  lain  neglected  is  indeed  astonishing.  Virtue  is 
demonstrably  the  happiness  of  man :  it  consists  in  good 
actions,  proceeding  from  a  good  principle,  temper,  or 
heart.  Overt-acts  are  entirely  in  our  power.  What 
remains  is,  that  we  learn  to  keep  our  heart;  to  govern 
and  regulate  our  passions,  mind,  affections :  that  so  we 
may  be  free  from  the  impotencies  of  fear,  envy,  malice, 
covetousness,  ambition ;  tliat  we  may  be  clear  of  these, 
considered  as  vices  seated  in  the  heart,  considered  as 
constituting  a  general  wrong  temper  ;  from  which  general 
wrong  frame  of  mind,  all  the  mistaken  pursuits,  and  far 
the  greatest  part  of  the  unhappiness  of  life,  proceed.  He, 
who  should  find  out  one  rule  to  assist  us  in  this  work, 
would  deserve  infinitely  better  of  mankind,  than  all  the 
improvers  of  other  knowledge  put  together. 

Lastly,  Let  us  adore  that  infinite  wisdom  and  power 
and  goodness,  which  is  above  our  comprehension.  To 


Ses.  XV.]  UPON  THE  IGNORANCE  OF  MAN.  183 

whom  hath  the  root  of  wisdom  been  revealed?  Or  xchx) 
hath  known  her  wise  counsels?  There  is  one  wise  and 
greatly  to  be  feared;  tlie  Lord  sitting  upon  his  throne.  He 
created  her,  and  saw  her,  and,  immhered  her,  and  poured 
her  out  upon  all  his  works.  If  it  be  thought  a  considerable 
thing  to  be  acquainted  with  a  few,  a  very  few,  of  the  effects 
of  infinite  power  and  wisdom ;  the  situation,  bigness,  and 
revolution  of  some  of  the  heavenly  bodies;  what  senti- 
ments should  our  minds  be  filled  with  concerning  Him, 
who  appointed  to  each  its  place  and  measure  and  sphere 
of  motion,  all  which  are  kept  with  the  most  uniform 
constancy !  Who  stretched  out  the  heavens,  and  telleth  tlie 
number  of  the  stars,  and  calleth  them  all  by  their  names. 
Who  laid  the  foundations  of  the  earth,  who  comprehcndeth 
^he  dust  of  it  in  a  measure,  and  weigheth  the  mountains  in 
scales,  and  the  hills  in  a  balance.  And,  when  we  have 
recounted  all  the  appearances  which  come  within  our 
view,  we  must  add,  Lo,  these  are  part  of  his  vmys:  hut 
how  little  a  portion  is  heard  of  him!  Canst  thou  by 
searching  find  out  God?  Canst  thou  find  out  the  Almighty 
unto  perfection?  It  is  as  high  as  heaven;  lohat  canst  thou 
do?  deeper  than  hell;  what  canst  thou  know? 

The  conclusion  is,  that  in  all  lowliness  of  mind  we  set 
lightly  by  ourselves:  that  we  form  our  temper  to  an 
implicit  submission  to  the  divine  Majesty;  beget  within 
ourselves  an  absolute  resignation  to  all  the  methods  of 
liis  providence,  in  his  dealings  with  the  children  of  men: 
that,  in  the  deepest  humility  of  our  souls,  we  prostrate 
ourselves  before  him,  and  join  in  that  celestial  song; 
Great  and  marvellous  are  thy  works,  Lord  God  Almighty ! 
just  and  true  are  thy  ways,  thou  King  of  saints!  Who 
ahall  not  fear  thee,  0  Lord,  and  glorify  thy  name  I 


SIX  SERMONS 

PREACHED  UPON 

PUBLIC  OCCASIONS. 


SERMON  I. 

PREACHED  BEFORE  THE  INCORPORATED  SOCIETY  FOR  THE  PROPAGATJOU 
OF  THE  GOSPEL  IN  FOREIGN  PARTS,  AT  THEIR  ANNIVERSARY  MEETING 
THE  PARISH  CHURCH  OF  ST  MARY-LE-BOW,  ON  FRIDAY,  FEB.  16,  1738-9. 

And  this  gospel  of  the  kingdom  shall  be  preached  in  all  the  worlds  for 
a  witness  unto  all  nations. — Matt.  xxiv.  14. 

The  general  doctrine  of  religion,  that  all  things  are  under 
the  direction  of  one  righteous  Governor,  having  been 
established  by  repeated  revelations  in  the  first  ages  of 
the  world,  was  left  with  the  bulk  of  mankind,  to  be 
honestly  preserved  pure  and  entire,  or  carelessly  for- 
gotten, or  wilfully  corrupted.  And  though  reason,  almost 
intuitively,  bare  witness  to  the  truth  of  this  moral  system 
of  nature,  yet  it  soon  appeared,  that  they  did  not  like  to 
retain  God  in  their  knowledge,^  as  to  any  purposes  of  real 
piety.  Natural  religion  became  gradually  more  and  more 
darkened  with  superstition,  little  understood,  less  regarded 
in  practice;  and  the  face  of  it  scarce  discernible  at  all,  in 
the  religious  establishments  of  the  most  learned,  polite 
nations.  And  how  much  soever  could  have  been  done 
towards  the  revival  of  it  by  the  light  of  reason,  yet  this 
light  could  not  have  discovered,  what  so  nearly  concerned 
us,  that  important  part  in  the  scheme  of  this  world,  which 
regards  a  Mediator;  nor  how  far  the  settled  constitution 
of  its  government  admitted  repentance  to  be  accepted  for 
remission  of  sins;  after  the  obscure  intimations  of  these 
things,  from  tradition,  were  corrupted  or  forgotten.  One 

♦  Rom.  i.  28. 


A  SERMON,  &c.  185 

people  indeed  had  clearer  notices  of  them,  together  with 
the  genuine  scheme  of  natural  religion,  preserved  in  the 
primitive  and  subsequent  revelations  committed  to  their 
trust;  and  were  designed  to  be  a  witness  of  God,  and  a 
providence  to  the  nations  around  them:  but  this  people 
also  had  corrupted  themselves  and  their  religion  to  the 
highest  degree,  that  was  consistent  with  keeping  up  the 
form  of  it. 

In  this  state  of  things,  when  infinite  Wisdom  saw 
proper,  the  general  doctrine  of  religion  was  authoritatively 
republished  in  its  purity;  and  the  particular  dispensation 
of  Providence,  which  this  world  is  under,  manifested  to= 
all  men,  even,  the  dispensation  of  the  grace  of  God* 
towards  us,  as  sinful,  lost  creatures,  to  be  recovered  by 
repentance  through  a  Mediator ;  who  was  to  make 
reconciliation  for  iniquity,  and  to  bring  in  everlasting 
righteousness,\  and  at  length  establish  that  new  state  of 
things  foretold  by  the  prophet  Daniel,  under  the  character 
of  a  kingdom,  which  the  God  of  heaven  would  set  up,  and 
which  should  never  be  destroged.X  This,  including  a  more 
distinct  account  of  the  instituted  means,  whereby  Christ 
the  Mediator  would  gather  together  in  one  the  children  of 
God,  that  were  scattered  abroad,^  and  conduct  them  to  the 
place  he  is  gone  to  prepare  for  them;']!  is  the  Gospel  of  the 
kingdom,  which  he  here  foretels,  and  elsewhere  com- 
mands, should  be  preached  in  all  the  world,  for  a  witness 
unto  all  nations.  And  it  frst  began  to  be  spoken  by  the 
Lord,  and  icas  confirmed  unto  ns  by  them  that  heard  him; 
God  also  bearing  them  iritness,  both  with  signs  and  wonders, 
and  with  divers  miracles,  and  gifts  of  the  Holy  Ghost, 
according  to  his  own  will:^  by  which  means  it  was  spread 
very  widely  among  the  nations  of  the  world,  and  became 
a  witness  unto  them. 

When  thus  much  was  accomplished,  as  there  is  a 
wonderful  uniformity  in  the  conduct  of  Providence, 
Christianity  was  lelt  with  Christians,  to  be  transmitted 
down  pure  and  genuine,  or  to  be  corrupted  and  sunk; 
in  like  manner  as  the  religion  of  nature  had  been  before 
left  with  mankind  in  general.    There  was  however  this 


♦  F.ph.  iii,  2.  +l)nn.  ix.  21.  t  l^^'"-  '•• 

^  John  xi.  52.  II  Julm  xiv.  2,  :i.  ^  lli  b.  ii.  3,  4. 


186 


A  SERMON  BEFORE  THE  SOCIETY  FOR 


difference,  that  by  an  institution  of  external  religion  fitted 
for  all  men  (consisting  in  a  common  form  of  Christian 
worship,  together  with  a  standing  ministry  of  instruction 
and  discipline),  it  pleased  God  to  unite  Christians 
in  communities  or  visible  churches,  and  all  along  to 
preserve  them,  over  a  great  part  of  the  world;  and  thus 
perpetuate  a  general  publication  of  the  gospel.  For 
these  communities,  which  together  make  up  the  cathohc 
visible  church,  are,  first,  the  repositories  of  the  written 
oracles  of  God;  and,  in  every  age,  have  preserved  and 
published  them,  in  every  country,  where  the  profession 
of  Christianity  has  obtained.  Hence  it  has  come  to 
pass,  and  it  is  a  thing  very  much  to  be  observed  in  the 
appointment  of  Providence,  that  even  such  of  these 
communities,  as,  in  a  long  succession  of  years,  have 
corrupted  Christianity  the  most,  have  yet  continually 
carried,  together  with  their  corruptions,  the  confutation 
of  them:  for  they  have  every  where  preserved  the  pure 
original  standard  of  it,  the  Scripture,  to  which  recourse 
might  have  been  had,  both  by  the  deceivers  and  the 
deceived,  in  every  successive  age.  Secondly,  any  par- 
ticular church,  in  whatever  place  estabhshed,  is  like  a 
city  that  is  set  on  a  hilly  which  cannot  be  hid,*  inviting  all 
who  pass  by,  to  enter  into  it.  All  persons,  to  whom 
any  notices  of  it  come,  have,  in  Scripture  language,  the 
kingdom  of  God  come  nigh  unto  them.  They  are  reminded 
of  that  religion,  which  natural  conscience  attests  the  truth 
of:  and  they  may,  if  they  will,  be  instructed  in  it  more 
-distinctly,  and  likewise  in  the  gracious  means,  whereby 
sinful  creatures  may  obtain  eternal  life;  that  chief  and 
-final  good,  which  all  men,  in  proportion  to  their  under- 
standing and  integrity,  even  in  all  ages  and  countries  of 
the  heathen  world,  were  ever  in  pursuit  of  And,  lastly, 
out  of  these  churches  have  all  along  gone  forth  persons, 
who  have  preached  the  gospel  in  remote  places,  with 
greater  or  less  good  effect:  for  the  establishment  of  any 
profession  of  Christianity,  however  corrupt,  I  call  a  good 
effect,  whilst  accompanied  with  a  continued  publication 
of  the  Scripture,  notwithstanding  it  may  for  some  time 
lie  quite  neglected. 


THE  PROPAGATION  OF  THE  GOSPEL.  187 


From  these  things,  it  may  be  worth  observing  by  the 
way,  appears  the  weakness  of  all  pleas  for  neglecting  the 
public  service  of  the  church.  For  though  a  man  prays 
with  as  much  devotion  and  less  interruption  at  home, 
and  reads  better  sermons  there,  yet  that  will  by  no  means 
excuse  the  neglect  of  his  appointed  part  in  keeping  up 
the  profession  of  Christianity  amongst  mankind.  And 
this  neglect,  were  it  universal,  must  be  the  dissolution  of 
the  whole  visible  church,  i.e.  of  all  Christian  communities; 
and  so  must  prevent  those  good  purposes,  which  were 
intended  to  be  answered  by  them,  and  which  they  have, 
all  along,  answered  over  the  world.  For  we  see  that  by 
their  means  the  event  foretold  in  the  text,  which  began 
in  the  preaching  of  Christ  and  the  apostles,  has  been 
carried  on,  more  or  less  ever  since,  and  is  still  carrying 
on;  these  being  the  providential  means  of  its  progress. 
And  it  is,  I  suppose,  the  completion  of  this  event,  which 
St  John  had  a  representation  of,  under  the  figure  of  an 
uncjel  flying  in  the  midst  of  heaven,  having  the  everlasting 
gospel  to  preach  unto  them  that  dwell  on  the  earth,  and  to 
every  nation,  and  kindred^  and  tongue,  and  people.* 

Our  Lord  adds  in  the  text,  that  this  should  be  for  a 
witness  unto  them;  for  an  evidence  of  their  duty,  and  an 
admonition  to  perform  it.  But  what  would  be  the  effect, 
or  success  of  the  general  preaching  of  the  gospel,  is  not 
here  mentioned.  And  therefore  the  prophecy  of  the 
text  is  not  parallel  to  those  others  in  Scripture,  which 
seem  to  foretel  the  glorious  establishment  of  Christianity 
in  the  last  days:  nor  does  it  appear  that  they  are  coinci- 
dent; otherwise  than  as  the  former  of  these  events  must 
be  supposed  preparatory  to  the  latter.  Nay,  it  is  not 
said  here,  that  God  willcth  all  men  should  be  saved,  and 
come  unto  the  knowledge  of  the  truth:  t  though  this  is  the 
language  of  Scripture  elsewhere.  The  text  declares  no 
more,  than  that  it  was  the  appointment  of  God,  in  his 
righteous  government  over  the  world,  that  the  gospel  oj 
the  kingdom  should  be  preached  for  a  icitness  unto  it. 

The  visible  constitution  and  course^  of  nature,  the 
moral  law  written  in  our  hearts,  the  positive  institutions  of 
religion,  and  even  any  nicniorial  of  it,  are  all  spoken  of 

*  Rev.  xiv.  6.  +  1  Tim.  ii.  4. 


188 


A  SERMON  BEFORE  THE  SOCIETY  FOR 


in  Scripture  under  this,  or  the  like  denomination:  so  are 
the  prophets,  apostles,  and  our  Lord  himself.  They 
are  all  witnesses,  for  the  most  part  unregarded  witnesses, 
in  behalf  of  God,  to  mankind.  They  inform  us  of  his 
being  and  providence,  and  of  the  particular  dispensation 
of  religion  which  we  are  under ;  and  continually  remind 
us  of  them.  And  they  are  equally  witnesses  of  these 
things,  whether  we  regard  them  or  not.  Thus  after  a 
declaration,  that  Ezekiel  should  be  sent  with  a  divine 
message  to  the  children  of  Israel,  it  is  added,  and  they, 
whether  they  will  hear,  or  whether  they  will  forbear  (for 
they  are  a  rebellious  house  J,  yet  shall  know  that  tliere  hath 
been  a  prophet  among  them*  And  our  Lord  directs  the 
seventy  disciples,  upon  their  departure  from  any  city, 
which  refused  to  receive  them,  to  declare.  Notwithstand- 
ing, be  ye  sure  of  this,  that  the  kingdom  of  God  is  come 
nigh  unto  you.f  The  thing  intended  in  both  these  pas- 
sages is  that  which  is  expressed  in  the  text  by  the  word 
witness.  And  all  of  them  together  evidently  suggest  thus 
much,  that  the  purposes  of  Providence  are  carried  on,  by 
the  preaching  of  the  gospel,  to  those  w^ho  reject  it,  as 
well  as  to  those  who  embrace  it.  It  is  indeed  true,  God 
willeth  that  all  men  should  be  saved:  yet,  from  the  unal- 
terable constitution  of  his  government,  the  salvation  of 
every  man  cannot  but  depend  upon  his  behaviour,  and 
therefore  cannot  but  depend  upon  himself;  and  is  neces- 
sarily his  own  concern,  in  a  sense,  in  which  it  cannot  be 
another's.  All  this  the  Scripture  declares,  in  a  manner  the 
most  forcible  and  alarming:  Can  a  man  be  profitable  unto 
God,  as  he  that  is  wise  may  be  profitable  unto  himself?  Is 
it  any  pleasure  to  the  Almighty,  that  thou  art  righteous  ? 
or  is  it  gain  to  Him,  that  thou  makest  thy  way  perfect  rX 
If  thou  be  wise,  thou  shall  be  wise  for  thyself:  but  if  thou 
scornest,  thou  alone  shall  bear  it.§  He  that  heareth,  let 
him  hear;  and  he  that  forbeareth,  let  him  forbear. W  And 
again,  He  that  hath  ears  to  hear,  let  him  hear:  but  if  any 
man  be  ignorant,  i.  e.  wilfully,  let  him  be  ignorant.^  To 
the  same  purpose  are  those  awful  words  of  the  angel,  in 
the  person  of  Him,  to  whom  all  judgment  is  committed:** 

♦  Ezek.  ii.  5,  7.       f  Luke  x.  1 1.       t  Job  vxii.  2,  3.       §  Prov.  ix.  12, 
II  Ezek.  iii.  27.  ^\  I  Cor.  xiv.  38.  *♦  John  v.  22, 


THE  PROPAGATION  OF  THE  GOSPEL. 


189 


He  that  is  unjust,  let  him  he  unjust  still:  and  he  ivhich  is 
filthy,  let  him  be  fiUhy  still:  and  he  that  is  righteous,  let 
him  be  righteous  still:  and  he  that  is  holy,  let  him  be  holy 
still.  And  behold,  I  come  quickly;  and  my  reicard  is  icith 
rae,  io  give  every  man  according  as  his  work  shall  be* 
The  righteous  government  of  the  world  must  be  carried 
on;  and,  of  necessity,  men  shall  remain  the  subjects  of 
it,  by  being  examples  of  its  mercy,  or  of  its  justice.  Life 
and  d-eath  are  set  before  them,  and  whether  they  like  shall 
be  given  them.f  They  are  to  make  their  choice,  and 
abide  by  it:  but  which  soever  their  choice  be,  the  gospel 
is  equally  a  witness  to  them;  and  the  purposes  of  Provi- 
dence are  answered  by  this  witness  of  the  gospel. 

From  the  foregoing  view  of  things  we  should  be 
reminded,  that  the  same  reasons  which  make  it  our  duty 
to  instruct  the  ignorant  in  the  relation,  which  the  light  of 
nature  shows  they  stand  in  to  God  their  maker,  and  in 
the  obligations  of  obedience,  resignation,  and  love  to 
him,  which  arise  out  of  that  relation;  make  it  our  duty 
likewise  to  instruct  them  in  all  those  other  relations, 
which  revelation  informs  us  of,  and  in  the  obligations  of 
duty,  which  arise  out  of  them.  And  the  reasons  for 
instructing  men  in  both  these  are  of  the  very  same  kind, 
as  for  communicating  any  useful  knowledge  whatever. 
God,  if  he  had  so  pleased,  could  indeed  miraculously  have 
revealed  every  religious  truth  which  concerns  mankind, 
to  everv  individual  man;  and  so  he  could  have  everv 
common  truth;  and  thus  have  superseded  all  use  of 
human  teaching  in  either.  Yet  he  has  not  done  this: 
but  has  appointed,  that  men  should  be  instructed  by  the 
assistance  of  their  fellow  creatures  in  both.  Further: 
though  all  knowledge  from  reason  is  as  really  from  God, 
as  revelation  is:  yet  this  last  is  a  distinguished  favour  to 
us,  and  naturally  strikes  us  with  the  greatest  awe,  and 
carries  in  it  an  assurance,  that  those  things  which  wc  are 
informed  of  by  it  are  of  the  utmost  importance  to  us  to 
be  informed  of.  Revelation  therefore,  as  it  demands  to 
be  received  with  a  regard  and  reverence  peculiar  to  itself; 
so  it  lays  us  under  obligations  of  a  like  peculiar  sort,  to 
communicate  the  light  of  it.    Further  still:  it  being  an 

♦  Pev.  xxii.  11,  12.  -f- Ecclus.  xv.  17. 


190 


A  SERMON  BEFORE  THE  SOCIETY  FOR 


indispensable  law  of  the  gospel,  that  Christians  should  unite 
in  religious  communities,  and  these  being  intended  for 
repositories*  of  the  written  oracles  of  God,  for  standing 
memorials  of  religion  to  unthinking  men,  and  for  the 
propagation  of  it  in  the  world;  Christianity  is  very  parti- 
cularly to  be  considered  as  a  trust,  deposited  with  us  in 
behalf  of  others,  in  behalf  of  mankind,  as  well  as  for  our 
own  instruction.  No  one  has  a- right  to  be  called  a 
Christian,  who  doth  not  do  somewhat  in  his  station,  towards 
the  discharge  of  this  trust ;  who  doth  not,  for  instance,  assist 
in  keeping  up  the  profession  of  Christianity  w^here  he  lives. 
And  it  is  an  obligation  but  little  more  remote,  to  assist  in 
doing  it  incur  factories  abroad;  and  in  the  colonies  to 
which  we  are  related,  by  their  being  peopled  from  our  own 
mother-country,  and  subjects,  indeed  very  necessary  ones, 
to  the  same  government  with  ourselves:  and  nearer  yet 
is  the  obligation  upon  such  persons  in  particular,  as  have 
the  intercourse  of  an  advantageous  commerce  with  them. 

Of  these  our  colonies,  the  slaves  ought  to  be  considered 
as  inferior  members,  and  therefore  to  be  treated  as 
members  of  them;  and  not  merely  as  cattle  or  goods, 
the  property  of  their  masters.  Nor  can  the  highest 
property,  possible  to  be  acquired  in  these  servants,  cancel 
the  obligation  to  take  care  of  their  religious  instruction. 
Despicable  as  they  may  appear  in  our  eyes,  they  are  the 
creatures  of  God,  and  of  the  race  of  mankind,  for  whom 
Christ  died:  and  it  is  inexcusable  to  keep  them  in 
ignorance  of  the  end  for  which  they  were  made,  and  the 
means  whereby  they  may  become  partakers  of  the  general 
redemption.  On  the  contrary,  if  the  necessity  of  the 
case  requires,  that  they  may  be  treated  with  the  very 
utmost  rigour,  that  hamanity  will  at  all  permit,  as  they 
certainly  are;  and,  for  our  advantage,  made  as  miserable 
as  they  well  can  be  in  the  present  world;  this  surely 
heightens  our  obligation  to  put  them  into  as  advantageous 
a  situation  as  we  are  able,  with  regard  to  another. 

The  like  charity  we  owe  to  the  natives;  owe  to  them 
in  a  much  stricter  sense  than  we  are  apt  to  consider,  were 
it  only  from  neighbourhood,  and  our  having  gotten 
possessions  in  their  country.  For  incidental  circumstances 

*  p.  185. 


THE  PROiAGATION  OF  THE  GOSPEL. 


191 


of  this  kind  appropriate  all  the  general  obligations  of 
charity  to  particular  persons;  and  make  such  and  such 
instances  of  it  the  duty  of  one  man  rather  than  another. 
We  are  most  strictly  bound  to  consider  these  poor  unin-' 
formed  creatures,  as  being  in  all  respects,  of  one  family 
with  ourselves,  the  family  of  mankind;  and  instruct  them 
in  our  common  sahation:'*'  that  they  may  not  pass  through 
this  stage  of  their  being  like  brute  beasts;  but  be  put  into 
a  capacity  of  moral  improvements,  how  low  soever  they 
must  remain  as  to  others,  and  so  into  a  capacity  of 
qualifying  themselves  for  a  higher  state  of  life  hereafter. 

All  our  affairs  should  be  carried  on  in  the  fear  of  God, 
in  subserviency  to  his  honour,  and  the  good  of  mankind. 
And  thus  navigation  and  commerce  should  be  consecrated 
to  the  service  of  rehgion,  by  being  made  the  means  of 
propagating  it  in  every  country,  with  which  we  have  any 
intercourse.  And  the  more  widely  Ave  endeavour  to 
spread  its  light  and  influence,  as  the  forementioned 
circumstances,  and  others  of  a  like  kind,  open  and  direct 
our  way,  the  more  faithful  shall  we  be  judged  in  the 
discharge  of  that  trust,t  which  is  committed  to  us  as 
Christians,  when  our  Lord  shall  require  an  account  of  it. 

And  it  may  be  some  encouragement  to  cheerful 
perseverance  in  these  endeavours  to  observe,  not  only  that 
they  are  our  duty,  but  also  that  they  seem  the  means  of 
carrying  on  a  great  scheme  of  Providence,  which  shall 
certainly  be  accomplished.  For  the  everlasting  gospel 
shall  be  preached  to  every  nation,t  and  the  kingdoms  of 
this  world  shall  become  the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord,  and  of 
his  Christ.§ 

However,  we  ought  not  to  be  discouraged  in  this  good 
work,  though  its  future  success  were  less  clearly  foretold; 
and  though  its  effect  now  in  reforming  mankind  appeared 
to  be  as  little  as  our  adversaries  pretend.  They,  indeed, 
and  perhaps  some  others,  seem  to  require  more  than 
either  experience  or  Scripture  give  ground  to  hope  for, 
in  the  present  course  of  tlie  world.  But  the  bare  estab- 
lishment of  Christianity  in  any  place,  even  the  external 
form  and  profession  of  it,  is  a  verv  important  and  valuable 
effect.     It  is  a  serious  call  upon  men  to  attend  to  tlie 


192  A  SERMON  BEFORE  THE  SOCIETY  FOR 

natural  and  the  revealed  doctrine  of  religion.  It  is  a 
standing  publication  of  the  gospel,  and  renders  it  a  witness 
to  them:  and  by  this  means  the  purposes  of  Providence 
are  carrying  on,  with  regard  to  remote  ages,  as  well  as 
to  the  present.  Cast  thy  bread  upon  the  waters  ;  for  thou 
shall  find  it  after  many  days.  In  the  morning  sow  thy  seedy 
and  in  the  evening  withhold  not  thine  hand;  for  thou  knowest 
not  whether  shall  prosper,  either  this  or  that,  or  whether 
they  both  shall  be  alike  good*  We  can  look  but  a  very 
little  way  into  the  connexions  and  consequences  of  things: 
our  duty  is  to  spread  the  incorruptible  seed  as  widely  as 
we  can,  and  leave  it  to  God  to  give  the  increase  A  Yet 
thus  much  we  may  be  almost  assured  of,  that  the  gospel, 
wherever  it  is  planted,  will  have  its  genuine  effect  upon 
some  few;  upon  more  perhaps  than  are  taken  notice  of  in 
the  hurry  of  the  world.  There  are,  at  least,  a  few  persons 
in  every  country  and  successive  age,  scattered  up  and  down, 
and  mixed  among  the  rest  of  mankind;  who,  not  being 
corrupted  past  amendment,  but  having  within  them  the 
principles  of  recovery,  will  be  brought  to  a  moral  and 
religious  sense  of  things,  by  the  establishment  of  Chris- 
tianity where  they  live;  and  then  will  be  influenced  by 
the  peculiar  doctrines  of  it,  in  proportion  to  the  integrity 
of  their  minds,  and  to  the  clearness,  purity,  and 
evidence,  with  which  it  is  offered  them.  Of  these  our 
Lord  speaks  in  the  parable  of  the  sower,  as  understanding 
the  word;  and  bearing  fruit,  and  bringing  forth,  some  an 
hundred  fold,  some  sixty,  some  thirty. t  One  might  add, 
that  these  persons,  in  proportion  to  their  influence,  do  at 
present  better  the  state  of  things:  better  it  even  in  the 
civil  sense,  by  giving  some  check  to  that  avowed 
profligateness,  which  is  a  contradiction  to  all  order  and 
government;  and,  if  not  checked,  must  be  the  subversion 
of  it. 

These  important  purposes,  which  are  certainly  to  be 
expected  from  the  good  work  before  us,  may  serve  to 
show,  how  little  weight  there  is  in  that  objection  against 
it,  from  the  want  of  those  miraculous  assistances,  with 
which  the  first  preachers  of  Christianity  proved  its  truth. 
The  plain  state  of  the  case  is,  that  the  gospel,  though  it 

♦  Eooles.  xi.  1,6.  t  1  Cor.  iii.  C.  %  Malt.  xiii.  23. 


THE  PROPAGATION  OF  THE  GOSPEL. 


193 


be  not  in  the  same  degree  a  icitaess  to  all,  who  have  it 
made  known  to  them;  yet  in  some  degree  is  so  to  all. 
Miracles  to  the  spectators-  of  them  are  intuitive  proofs  of 
its  truth:  but  the  bare  preaching  of  it  is  a  serious 
admonition  to  all  who  hear  it,  to  attend  to  the  notices 
which  God  has  given  of  himself  by  the  light  of  nature; 
and,  if  Christianity  be  preached  with  its  proper  evidence, 
to  submit  to  its  peculiar  discipline  and  laws;  if  not,  to 
inquire  honestly  after  its  evidence,  in  proportion  to  their 
capacities.  And  there  are  persons  of  small  capacities 
for  inquiry  and  examination,  who  yet  are  wrought  upon 
by  it,  to  deny  ungodliness  and  worldly  lusts,  and  live  soberly, 
righteously,  and  godly  in  this  present  world*  in  expectation 
of  a  future  judgment  by  Jesus  Christ.  Nor  can  any 
Christian,  who  understands  his  religion,  object,  that  these 
persons  are  Christians  without  evidence:  for  he  cannot 
be  ignorant  who  has  declared,  that  if  any  man  icill  do 
his  will,  he  shall  know  of  the  doctrine, ichetJier  it  he  of  God  A 
And,  since  the  whole  end  of  Christianity  is  to  influence  the 
heart  and  actions,  were  an  unbeliever  to  object  in  that 
manner,  he  should  be  asked,  whether  he  would  think  it 
to  the  purpose  to  object  against  persons  of  like  capacities, 
that  they  are  prudent  without  evidence,  when,  as  is  often 
the  case,  they  are  observed  to  manage  their  worldly  affairs 
with  discretion. 

The  design  before  us  being  therefore  in  general 
unexceptionably  good,  it  were  much  to  be  wished,  that 
serious  men  of  all  denominations  would  join  in  it.  And 
let  me  add,  that  the  foregoing  view  of  things  affords 
distinct  reasons  why  they  should.  For,  first,  by  so  doing, 
they  assist  in  a  work  of  the  most  useful  importance,  that 
of  spreading  over  the  world  the  Scripture  itself,  as  a  divine 
revelation:  and  it  cannot  be  spread  under  this  character, 
for  a  continuance,  in  any  country,  unless  Christian 
churches  be  supported  tlicre;  but  will  always  more  or 
less,  so  long  as  such  churches  subsist:  and  therefore  their 
subsistence  ought  to  be  provided  for.  In  the  next  place, 
they  should  remember,  that  if  Christianity  is  to  be 
propagated  at  all,  which  they  acknowledge  it  should,  it 
must  be  in  some  particular  form  of  profession.  And 

♦  Titus  ii.  12,  13.  +  John  vii.  17. 

N 


194  A  SERMON  BEFORE  THE  SOCIETY  FOR 

though  they  think  ours  Hable  to  objections,  yet  it  is^ 
possible  they  themselves  may  be  mistaken;  and  whether 
they  are  or  no,  the  very  nature  of  society  requires  some 
compliance  with  others.  And  whilst,  together  with  our 
particular  form  of  Christianity,  the  confessed  standard  of 
Christian  religion,  the  Scripture,  is  spread  ;  and  especially 
whilst  every  one  is  freely  allowed  to  study  it,  and  worship 
God  according  to  his  conscience:  the  evident  tendency 
is,  that  genuine  Christianity  will  be  understood  and  prevail. 
Upon  the  whole  therefore,  these  persons  would  do  well 
to  consider,  how  far  they  can  with  reason  satisfy 
themselves  in  neglecting  what  is  certainly  right,  on  account 
of  what  is  doubtful,  whether  it  be  wrong;  and  when  the 
right  is  of  so  much  greater  consequence  one  way,  than 
the  supposed  wrong  can  be  to  the  other. 

To  conclude:  Atheistical  immorality  and  profaneness, 
surely,  is  not  better  in  itself,  nor  less  contrary  to  the 
design  of  revelation,  than  superstition.  Nor  is  super- 
stition the  distinguishing  vice  of  the  present  age,  either 
at  home  or  abroad.  But  if  our  colonies  abroad  are  left 
without  a  public  religion,  and  the  means  of  instruction, 
what  can  be  expected,  but  that,  from  living  in  a  continued 
forgetfulness  of  God,  they  will  at  length  cease  to  believe 
in  him;  and  so  sink  into  stupid  atheism .^^  And  there  is 
too  apparent  danger  of  the  like  horrible  depravity  at 
home,  without  the  like  excuse  for  it.  Indeed  amongst 
creatures  naturally  formed  for  religion,  yet  so  much  under 
the  powers  of  imagination,  so  apt  to  deceive  themselves, 
and  so  liable  to  be  deceived  by  others,  as  men  are; 
superstition  is  an  evil,  which  can  never  be  out  of  sight. 
But  even  against  this,  true  religion  is  a  great  security; 
and  the  only  one.  True  religion  takes  up  that  place  in 
the  mind,  which  superstition  would  usurp,  and  so  leaves 
little  room  for  it;  and  likewise  lays  us  under  the  strongest 
obligations  to  oppose  it.  On  the  contrary,  the  danger  of 
superstition  cannot  but  be  increased  by  the  prevalence  of 
irreligion :  and  by  its  general  prevalence,  the  evil  will  be 
unavoidable.  For  the  common  people,  wanting  a  religion, 
will  of  course  take  up  with  almost  any  superstition,  which 
is  thrown  in  their  way:  and,  in  process  of  time,  amidst 
the  infinite  vicissitudes  of  the  political  world,  the  leaders 


THE  PROPAGATION  OF  THE  GOSPEL.  195 


of  parties  will  certainly  be  ab!c  to  serve  themselves  of 
that  superstition,  whatever  it  be,  which  is  getting  ground: 
and  will  not  fail  to  carry  it  on  to  the  utmost  length  their 
occasions  require.  The  general  nature  of  the  thing 
shows  this;  and  history  and  fact  confirm  it.  But  what 
brings  the  observation  home  to  ourselves  is,  that  the  great 
superstition  of  which  this  nation,  in  particular,  has  reason 
to  be  afraid,  is  imminent;  and  the  ways  in  which  we  may, 
very  supposably,  be  overwhelmed  by  it,  obvious.  It 
is  therefore  wonderful,  those  people  who  seem  to  think 
there  is  but  one  evil  in  life,  that  of  superstition,  should 
not  see,  that  atheism  and  profaneness  must  be  the 
introduction  of  it.  So  that  in  every  view  of  things,  and 
upon  all  accounts,  irrcligion  is  at  present  our  chief  danger. 
Now  the  several  religious  associations  among  us,  in  which 
many  good  men  have  of  late  united,  appear  to  be 
providentially  adapted  to  this  present  state  of  the  world. 
And  as  all  good  men  are  equally  concerned  in  promoting" 
the  end  of  them ;  to  do  it  more  effectually,  they  ought  to 
unite  in  promoting  it :  which  yet  is  scarce  practicable 
upon  any  new  models,  and  quite  impossible  upon  such  as 
every  one  would  think  unexceptionable.  They  ought 
therefore  to  come  into  those  already  formed  to  their 
hands;  and  even  take  advantage  of  any  occasion  of  union, 
to  add  mutual  force  to  each  other's  endeavours  in 
furthering  their  common  end ;  however  they  may  differ 
as  to  the  best  means,  or  any  thing  else  subordinate  to  it^ 
Indeed  there  are  well-disposed  persons,  who  much  want 
to  bj  admonished,  how  dangerous  a  thing  it  is,  to  dis- 
countenance what  is  good,  because  it  is  not  better ;  and 
hinder  what  they  approve,  by  raising  prejudices  against 
some  under-part  of  it.  Nor  can  they  assist  in  rectifying 
what  they  think  capable  of  amendment,  in  the  manner 
of  carrying  on  these  designs,  unless  they  will  join  in  the 
designs  themselves ;  which  they  must  acknowledge  to  be 
good  and  necessary  ones.  For  what  can  be  called  good 
and  necessary  by  Christians,  if  it  be  not  so,  to  support 
Christianity  where  it  must  otherwise  sink,  and  propagate 
it  wl\ere  it  must  otherwise  be  unknown;  to  restrain 
abandoned,  barefaced  vice,  by  making  useful  examples, 
at  least  of  shame,  perhaps  of  repentance ;  and  to  take 

N  2 


196 


A  SERMON,  ETC. 


care  of  the  education  of  such  children,  as  otherwise 
must  be,  even  educated  in  wickedness,  and  trained  up 
to  destruction?  Yet  good  men  separately  can  do  nothing, 
proportionable  to  what  is  w^anting,  in  any  of  these  ways; 
but  their  common,  united  endeavours  may  do  a  great 
deal  in  all  of  them. 

And  besides  the  particular  purposes,  which  these 
several  religious  associations  serve,  the  more  general 
ones,  which  they  all  serve,  ought  not  to  be  passed  over. 
Every  thing  of  this  kind  is,  in  some  degree,  a  safeguard 
to  religion ;  an  obstacle,  more  or  less,  in  the  way  of  those 
who  want  to  have  it  extirpated  out  of  the  world.  Such 
societies  also  contribute  more  especially  towards  keeping 
up  the  face  of  Christianity  among  ourselves ;  and  by  their 
obtaining  here,  the  gospel  is  rendered  more  and  more  a 
witness  to  us. 

And  if  it  were  duly  attended  to,  and  had  its  genuine 
influence  upon  our  minds,  there  would  be  no  need  of 
persuasions  to  impart  the  blessing:  nor  would  the  means 
of  doing  it  be  wanting.  Indeed  the  present  income  of 
this  Society,  which  depends  upon  voluntary  contributions, 
with  the  most  frugal  management  of  it,  can  in  no  wise 
sufficiently  answer  the  bare  purposes  of  our  charter:  but 
the  nation,  or  even  this  opulent  city  itself,  has  it  in  its 
power  to  do  so  very  much  more,  that  I  fear  the  mention 
of  it  may  be  thought  too  severe  a  reproof,  since  so  little 
is  done.  But  if  the  gospel  had  its  proper  influence  upon 
the  Christian  world  in  general,  as  it  is  the  centre  of  trade 
and  seat  of  learning,  a  very  few  ages,  in  all  probability, 
would  settle  Christianity  in  every  country,  without  mira- 
culous assistances.  For  scarce  any  thing  else,  I  am 
persuaded,  would  be  wanting  to  efl'ect  this,  but  laying 
it  before  men  in  its  divine  simplicity,  together  with  an 
exemplification  of  it  in  the  lives  of  Christian  nations. 
TJie  unlearned  and  unbelievers,  falling  down  on  their  faces, 
would  worship  God,  and  report  that  God  is  in  us  of  a 
truth.'' 

♦  1  Cor.  xiv.  24,  25. 


A  SERMON,  ETC. 


197 


SERMON  II. 

PREACHED  BEFORE  THE  RIGHT  HON.  THE  LORD  MAYOR,  THE  COURT  OF 
ALDERMEN,  THE  SHERIFFS,  AND  THE  GOVERNORS  OF  THE  SEVERAL 
HOSPITALS  OF  THE  CITY  OF  LONDON,  AT  THE  PARISH  CHURCH  OF  ST 
BRIDGET,  ON  MONDAY  IN  EASTER-WEEK,  1740. 

Tlie  rich  and  poor  meet  together:  the  Lord  is  the  maker  of 
them  all. — Prov.  xxii.  2. 

The  constitution  of  things  being  such,  that  the  labour  of 
one  man,  or  the  united  labour  of  several,  is  sufficient  to 
procure  more  necessaries  than  he  or  they  stand  in  need 
of,  which  it  may  be  supposed  was,  in  some  degree,  the 
case,  even  in  the  first  ages;  this  immediately  gave  room 
for  riches  to  arise  in  the  world,  and  for  men's  acquiring 
them  by  honest  means;  by  diligence,  frugality,  and 
prudent  management.  Thus  some  would  very  soon 
acquire  greater  plenty  of  necessaries  than  they  had 
occasion  for;  and  others  by  contrary  means,  or  by  cross 
accidents,  would  be  in  want  of  them:  and  he  who 
should  supply  their  wants  would  have  the  property  in  a 
proportionable  labour  of  their  hands;  which  he  would 
scarce  fail  to  make  use  of,  instead  of  his  own,  or  perhaps 
together  with  them,  to  provide  future  necessaries  in 
greater  plenty.  Riches  then  were  first  bestowed  upon 
the  world,  as  they  are  still  continued  in  it,  by  the  blessing 
of  God  upon  the  industry  of  men,  in  the  use  of  their 
understanding  and  strength.  Riches  themselves  have 
always  this  source;  though  the  possession  of  them  is 
conveyed  to  particular  persons  by  different  channels. 
Yet  still,  the  hand  of  the  diliijcnt  niaketh  rich,*  and,  other 
circumstances  being  equal,  in  proportion  to  its  diligence. 

But  to  return  to  the  first  rich  man;  whom  we  left  in 
possession  of  dependants,  and  plenty  of  necessaries  for 
himself  and  them.  A  family  would  not  be  long  in  this 
state,  before  conveniences,  somewhat  ornaniejifa/,  and  for 
entertainment,  would  be  wanted,  lookc  d  for,  and  found 
out.  And,  by  degrees,  these  secondary  wants,  and 
inventions  for  the  supply  of  them,  the  fruits  of  leisure 

•  Prov.  X.  4. 


198 


A  SERMON  PREACHED  BEFORE 


and  ease,  came  to  employ  much  of  men's  time  and  labour. 
Hence  a  new  species  of  riches  came  into  the  world,  con- 
sisting of  things  which  it  might  have  done  well  enough 
without,  yet  thought  desirable,- as  affording  pleasure  to 
the  imagination  or  the  senses.  And  these  went  on 
increasing,  till,  at  length,  the  superfluities  of  life  took  in 
a  vastly  larger  compass  of  things  than  the  necessaries  of 
it.  Thus  luxury  made  its  inroad,  and  all  the  numerous 
train  of  evils  its  attendants;  of  which  poverty,  as  bad  a 
one  as  we  may  account  it,  is  far  from  being  the  worst. 
Indeed  the  hands  of  the  generality  must  be  employed: 
and  a  very  few  of  them  would  now  be  sufficient  to 
provide  the  world  with  necessaries:  and  therefore  the 
rest  of  them  must  be  employed  about  what  may  be  called 
superfluities;  which  could  not  be,  if  these  superfluities 
were  not  made  use  of.  Yet  the  desire  of  such  things, 
insensibly,  becomes  immoderate,  and  the  use  of  them, 
almost  of  course,  degenerates  into  luxury;  which,  in 
every  age,  has  been  the  dissipation  of  riches,  and,  in 
every  sense,  the  ruin  of  those  who  were  possessed 
of  them:  and  therefore  cannot  be  too  much  guarded 
against  by  all  opulent  cities.  And  as  men  sink  into 
luxury,  as  much  from  fashion,  as  direct  inclination, 
the  richer  sort  together  may  easily  restrain  this  vice,  in 
almost  what  degree  they  please:  and  a  few  of  the  chief 
of  them  may  contribute  a  great  deal  towards  the  re- 
straining it. 

It  is  to  be  observed  further  concerning  the  progress 
of  riches,  that  had  they  continued  to  consist  only  in  the 
possession  of  the  things  themselveSy  which  were  necessary, 
and  of  the  things  themselves^  which  were,  upon  their  own 
account,  otherwise  desirable;  this,  in  several  respects, 
must  have  greatly  embarrassed  trade  and  commerce; 
and  have  set  bounds  to  the  increase  of  riches  in  all  hands, 
as  well  as  have  confined  them  in  the  hands  of  a  few. 
But,  in  process  of  time,  .it  was  agreed  to  substitute 
somewhat  more  lasting  and  portable,  which  should  pass 
every  where,  in  commerce,  for  real  natural  riches;  as 
sounds  had  before,  in  language,  been  substituted  for 
thoughts.  And  this  general  agreement  (by  what  means 
soever  it  became  general),  that  money  should  answer  all 


THE  LORD  MAYOR,  ETC. 


199 


things,  together  with  some  other  improvements,  gave  full 
scope  for  riches  to  increase  in  the  hands  of  particulsir 
persons,  an^i  hkewise  to  circulate  into  more  hands.  Now 
this,  though  it  was  not  the  first  origin  of  covetousness, 
yet  it  gives  greater  scope,  encouragement,  and  tempta- 
tion to  covetousness  than  it  had  before.  And  there  is 
moreover  the  appearance,  that  this  artificial  kind  of  riches, 
money,  has  begot  an  artificial  kind  of  passion  for  them: 
both  which  follies  well-disposed  persons  must,  by  all 
means,  endeavour  to  keep  clear  of  For  indeed  the  love 
of  riches  is  the  root  of  all  evil:*  though  riches  themselves 
may  be  made  instrumental  in  promoting  every  thing  that 
is  good. 

The  improvement  of  trade  and  commerce  has  made 
another  change,  just  hinted  at,  and  I  think  a  very  happy 
one,  in  the  state  of  the  world,  as  it  has  enlarged  the 
middle  rank  of  people:  many  of  which  are,  in  good 
measure,  free  from  the  vices  of  the  highest  and  the 
lowest  part  of  mankind.  Now  these  persons  must 
remember,  that  whether,  in  common  language,  they  do 
or  do  not  pass  under  the  denomination  of  rich,  yet  they 
really  are  so,  with  regard  to  the  indigent  and  necessitous; 
and  that  considering  the  great  numbers  which  make  up 
this  middle  rank  among  us,  and  how  much  they  mix  with 
the  poor,  they  are  able  to  contribute  very  largely  to  their 
relief,  and  have  in  all  respects  a  very  great  influence  over 
them. 

You  have  heard  now  the  origin  and  progress  of  what 
this  great  city  so  much  abounds  with,  riches;  as  far  as  I 
had  occasion  to  speak  of  these  things.  For  this  brief 
account  of  them  has  been  laid  before  you  for  the  sake  of 
the  good  admonitions  it  afforded.  Nor  will  the  admoni- 
tions be  thought  foreign  to  the  charities,  which  we  are 
endeavouring  to  promote.  For  these  must  necessarily 
be  less,  and  the  occasions  for  them  greater,  in  proportion 
as  industry  should  abate,  or  luxury  increase.  And  the 
temper  of  covetousness  is,  we  all  know,  directly  contrary 
to  that  of  charity,  and  eats  out  the  very  heart  of  it.  Then, 
lastly,  there  are  good  sort  of  people  who  really  want  to 
be  told,  that  they  are  included  in  the  admonitions  to  be 

*  Tim.  vi.  10. 


200 


A  SERMON  PREACHED  BEFORE 


given  to  the  rich,  though  they  do  see  others  richer  thau 
themselves. 

The  ranks  of  rich  and  poor  being  thus  formed,  they 
meet  together;  they  continue  to  make  up  one  society. 
The  mutual  want,  which  they  still  have  of  each  other,, 
still  unites  them  inseparably.  But  they  meet  upon  a  foot 
of  great  inequality.  For,  as  Solomon  expresses  it  in 
brief,  and  with  much  force,  the  rich  ruleth  over  the  poor.*" 
And  this  their  general  intercourse,  with  the  superiority 
on  one  hand,  and  dependence  on  the  other,  are  in 
no  sort  accidental,  but  arise  necessarily  from  a  settled 
providential  disposition  of  things,  for  their  common  good. 
Here  then  is  a  real,  standing  relation  between  the  rich 
and  the  poor.  And  the  former  must  take  care  to  perform 
the  duties  belonging  to  their  part  of  it,  for  these  chiefly 
the  present  occasion  leads  me  to  speak  to,  from  regard 
to  Him,  who  placed  them  in  that  relation  to  the  poor, 
from  whence  those  duties  arise,  and  who  is  the  Maker  oj 
them  all. 

What  these  duties  are,  will  easily  be  seen,  and  the 
obligations  to  them  strongly  enforced,  by  a  little  further 
reflection  upon  both  these  ranks,  and  the  natural  situa- 
tion which  they  are  in  with  respect  to  each  other. 

The  lower  rank  of  mankind  go  on,  for  the  most  part,  , 
in  some  tract  of  living,  into  which  they  got  by  direction 
or  example;  and  to  this  their  understanding  and  discourse,  . 
as  well  as  labour,  are  greatly  confined.  Their  opinions 
of  persons  and  things  they  take  upon  trust.  Their  be- 
haviour has  very  little  in  it  original  or  of  home-growth; 
very  httle  which  may  not  be  traced  up  to  the  influence 
of  others,  and  less  which  is  not  capable  of  being  changed 
by  such  influence.  Then  as  God  has  made  plentiful 
provision  for  all  his  creatures,  the  wants  of  all,  even  of 
the  poorest,  might  be  supplied,  so  far  as  it  is  fit  they 
shoukl,  by  a  proper  distribution  of  it.  This  being  the 
condition  of  the  lower  part  of  mankind,  consider  now 
what  influence,  as  well  as  power,  their  superiors  must, 
from  the  nature  of  the  case,  have  over  them.  For  they 
can  instil  instruction,  and  recommend  it  in  a  pecuhar 
manner  by  their  example,  and  enforce  it  still  further  with 

*  Prov.  xxii.  7. 


THE  LORD  MAYOR,  ETC. 


201 


favour  and  discouragement  of  various  kinds.  And 
experience  shows,  that  they  do  direct  and  change  the 
course  of  the  world  as  they  please.  Not  only  the  civil 
welfare,  but  the  morals  and  religion  of  their  fellow 
creatures,  greatly  depend  upon  them ;  much  more  indeed 
than  they  would,  if  the  common  people  were  not  greatly 
wanting  to  their  duty.  All  this  is  evidently  true  of 
superiors  in  general;  superiors  in  riches,  authority,  and 
understanding,  taken  together.  And  need  I  say  how 
much  of  this  whole  superiority  goes  along  with  riches  ? 
It  is  no  small  part  of  it,  which  arises  out  of  riches  them- 
selves. In  all  governments,  particularly  in  our  own,  a 
good  share  of  civil  authority  accompanies  them.  Superior 
natural  understanding  may,  or  may  not:  but  when  it 
does  not,  yet  riches  afford  great  opportunities  for  im- 
provement, and  may  command  information ;  which  things 
together  are  equivalent  to  natural  superiority  of  under- 
standing. 

But  I  am  sure  you  will  not  think  I  have  been  remind- 
ing you  of  these  advantages  of  riches  in  order  to  beget 
in  you  that  complacency  and  trust  in  them,  which  you 
find  the  Scripture  every  where  warning  you  against. 
No:  the  importance  of  riches,  this  their  powder  and 
influence,  affords  the  most  serious  admonition  in  the 
world  to  those  who  are  possessed  of  them.  For  it 
shows,  how  very  blameable  even  their  carelessness  in 
the  use  of  that  power  and  influence  must  be:  since  it 
must  be  blameable  in  a  degree  proportionate  to  the 
importance  of  what  they  are  thus  careless  about. 

But  it  is  not  only  true,  that  the  rich  have  the  power 
of  doing  a  great  deal  of  good,  and  must  be  highly 
blameable  for  neglecting  to  do  it:  but  it  is  moreover 
true,  that  this  power  is  given  them  by  way  of  trust,  in 
order  to  their  keeping  down  that  vice  and  misery,  with 
which  the  lower  people  would  otherwise  be  quite  over- 
run. For  without  instruction  and  good  influence  they,  of 
course,  grow  rude  and  vicious,  and  reduce  themselves 
to  the  utmost  distresses;  often  to  very  terrible  ones 
without  deserving  much  blame.  And  to  these  must  be 
added  their  unavoidable  distresses,  which  yet  admit  of 
relief     This  their  case  plainly  requires,  that  some 


202 


A  SERMON  PREACHED  BEFORE 


natural  provision  should  be  made  for  it;  as  the  case  of 
children  does,  who,  if  left  to  their  own  ways,  would 
almost  infalhbly  ruin  themselves.  Accordingly  Provi- 
dence has  made  provision  for  this  case  of  the  poor:  not 
only  by  forming  their  minds  pecuharly  apt  to  be  influ- 
enced by  their  superiors,  and  giving  those  superiors 
abilities  to  direct  and  relieve  them;  but  also  by  putting 
the  latter  under  the  care  and  protection  of  the  former: 
for  this  is  plainly  done,  by  means  of  that  intercourse  of 
various  kinds  betw*een  them,  which  in  the  natural  course 
of  things,  is  unavoidably  necessary.  In  the  primitive  ages 
of  the  world,  the  manner  in  which  the  rich  and  the  poor 
met  together,  was  in  families.  Rich  men  had  the  poor 
for  their  servants:  not  only  a  few  for  the  offices  about 
their  persons,  and  for  the  care  of  what  we  now  call 
domestic  affairs;  but  great  numbers  also  for  the  keeping 
of  their  cattle,  the  tillage  of  thtir  fields,  for  working  up 
their  wool  into  furniture  and  vestments  of  necessary 
use  as  well  as  ornament,  and  for  preparing  them  those 
many  things  at  home,  which  now  pass  through  a  mul- 
titude of  unknown  poor  hands  successively,  and  are  by 
them  prepared,  at  a  distance,  for  the  use  of  the  rich. 
The  instruction  of  these  large  families,  and  the  oversight 
of  their  morals  and  religion,  plainly  belonged  to  the 
heads  of  them.  And  that  obvious  humanity,  which 
every  one  feels,  must  have  induced  them  to  be  kind  to 
all  whom  they  found  under  their  roof,  in  sickness  and  old 
age.  In  this  state  of  the  world,  the  relation  between 
the  rich  and  the  poor  could  not  but  be  universally  seen 
and  acknowledged.  Now  indeed  it  is  less  in  sight,  by 
means  of  artificial  methods  of  carrying  on  business, 
which  yet  are  not  blameable.  But  the  relation  still 
subsists,  and  the  obligations  arising  out  of  it;  and  cannot 
but  remain  the  same,  whilst  the  rich  have  the  same  want 
of  the  poor,  and  make  the  same  use  of  them,  though  not 
so  immediately  under  their  eye;  and  whilst  the  instruc- 
tion, and  manners,  and  good  or  bad  state  of  the  poor, 
really  depend  in  so  great  a  degree  upon  the  rich,  as  all 
these  things  evidently  do;  partly  in  their  capacity  of 
niagistrates,  but  very  much  also  in  their  private  capacity. 
In  short,  he  who  has  distributed  men  into  these  different 


THE  LORD  MAYOR,  ETC. 


203 


Tan"ks,  and  at  the  same  time  united  them  into  one 
society,  in  such  sort  as  men  are  united,  has,  by  this 
constitution  of  things,  formally  put  the  poor  under  the 
superintendency  and  patronage  of  the  rich.  The  rich 
then  are  charged,  by  natural  providence,  as  much  as  by 
revealed  appointment,  with  the  care  of  the  poor:  not  to 
maintain  them  idle;  which,  were  it  possible  they  could 
be  so  maintained,  would  produce  greater  mischiefs  than 
those  which  charity  is  to  prevent;  but  to  take  care,  that 
they  maintain  themselves  by  their  labour,  or  in  case 
they  cannot,  then  to  relieve  them;  to  restrain  their 
vices,  and  form  their  minds  to  virtue  and  religion.  This 
is  a  trust,  yet  it  is  not  a  burden,  but  a  privilege,  annexed 
to  riches.  And  if  every  one  discharged  his  share  of  the 
trust  faithfully,  whatever  be  his  share  of  it,  the  world 
would  be  quite  another  place  from  what  it  is.  But  thai 
cannot  be,  till  covetousness,  debauchery,  and  every  vice, 
be  unknown  among  the  rich.  Then,  and  not  before, 
will  the  manners  of  the  poor  be,  in  all  respects,  what 
they  ought  to  be,  and  their  distresses  find  the  full  relief, 
which  they  ought  to  find.  And,  as  far  as  things  of  this 
sort  can  be  calculated,  in  proportion  to  the  right  beha- 
viour of  persons  whom  God  has  placed  in  the  former  of 
these  ranks,  will  be  the  right  behaviour  and  good  condi- 
tion of  those  who  are  cast  into  the  latter.  Every  one  of 
ability  then  is  to  be  persuaded  to  do  somewhat  towards 
this,  keeping  up  a  sense  of  virtue  and  religion  among 
the  poor,  and  relieving  their  wants;  each  as  much  as  he 
can  be  persuaded  to.  Since  the  generality  will  not  part 
with  their  vices,  it  were  greatly  to  be  wished,  they 
would  bethink  themselves,  and  do  what  good  they  are 
able,  so  far  only  as  is  consistent  with  them.  A  vicious 
rich  man  cannot  pass  through  life  without  doing  an 
incredible  deal  of  mischief,  were  it  only  by  his  example 
and  influence;  besides  neglecting  the  most  important 
obligations,  which  arise  from  his  superior  fortune.  Yet 
still,  the  fewer  of  them  he  neglects,  and  the  less  mischief 
he  does,  the  less  share  of  the  vices  and  miseries  of  his 
inferiors  will  lie  at  his  door:  the  less  will  be  his  guilt 
and  punishment.  But  conscientious  persons  of  this 
rank  must  revolve  again  and  again  in  tlieir  minds,  how 


) 

204  A  SERMON  PREACHED  BEFORE 

great  the  trust  is,  which  God  has  annexed  to  it.  They 
must  each  of  them  consider  impartially,  what  is  his  own 
particular  share  of  that  trust;  which  is  determined  by  his 
situation,  character,  and  fortune  together:  and  then  set 
himself  to  be  as  useful  as  he  can  in  those  particular  ways^ 
which  he  finds  thus  marked  out  for  him.  This  is  exactly 
the  precept  of  St  Peter:  As  every  man  hath  received  the 
gif  t,  even  so  minister  the  same  one  to  another,  as  good 
stewards  of  the  manifold  grace  of  God*  And  as  rich 
men,  by  a  right  direction  of  their  greater  capacity,  may 
entitle  themselves  to  a  greater  reward;  so  by  a  wrong 
direction  of  it,  or  even  by  great  negligence,  they  may 
become  partakers  of  other  mens  sins,\  and  chargeable 
with  other  men's  miseries.  For  if  there  be  at  all  any 
measures  of  proportion,  any  sort  of  regularity  and  order 
in  the  administration  of  things,  it  is  self-evident,  that  unta 
whomsover  much  is  given,  of  him  shall  much  be  required: 
and  to  whom  much  is  committed,  of  him  shall  more  he 
demanded. X 

But  still  it  is  to  be  remembered,  that  every  man's 
behaviour  is  his  own  concern,  for  every  one  must  give 
account  of  his  own  works ;  and  that  the  lower  people  are 
very  greatly  to  blame  in  yielding  to  any  ill  influence, 
particularly  following  the  ill  example  of  their  superiors ; 
though  these  are  more  to  blame  in  setting  them  such  an 
example.  For,  as  our  Lord  declares,  in  the  words 
immediately  preceding  those  just  mentioned,  that  servant 
which  knew  his  Lord's  will,  and  prepared  not  himself 
neither  did  according  to  his  will,  shall  he  beaten  with  many- 
stripes.  But  he  that  knew  not,  and  did  commit  things 
worthy  of  stripes,  shall  he  beaten  with  few  stripes.^  Vice 
is  itself  of  ill  desert,  and  therefore  shall  be  punished  in 
all ;  though  its  ill  desert  is  greater  or  less,  and  so  shall 
be  its  punishment,  in  proportion  to  men's  knowledge  of 
God  and  religion  :  but  it  is  in  the  most  literal  sense  true, 
that  he  who  knew  not  his  Lord's  will,  and  committed  thing,f 
worthy  of  stripes,  shall  be  beaten,  though  vnth  few  stripes. 
For  it  being  the  discernment,  that  such  and  such  actions 
are  evil,  which  renders  them  vicious  in  him  who  does 
them,  ignorance  of  other  things,  though  it  may  lessen, 

♦  1  Pet.  Iv.  10.      +  I  Tim.  v.  22.      J  Luke  x«.  48.      §  Luke  xii,  47,  48. 


THE  LORD  MAYOR,  ETC. 


205 


yet  it  cannot  remit  the  punishment  of  such  actions  in  a 
just  administration,  because  it  cannot  destroy  the  guilt  of 
them  :  much  less  can  corrupt  deference  and  regard  to  the 
example  of  superiors  in  matters  of  plain  duty  and  sin 
have  this  effect.  Indeed  the  lowest  people  know  very 
well,  that  such  ill  example  affords  no  reason  why  they 
should  do  ill;  but  they  hope  it  will  be  an  excuse  for  them, 
and  thus  deceive  themselves  to  their  ruin :  which  is  a 
forcible  reason  why  their  superiors  should  not  lay  this 
snare  in  their  way. 

All  this  approves  itself  to  our  natural  understanding ; 
though  it  is  by  means  of  Christianity  chiefly,  that  it  is 
thus  enforced  upon  our  consciences.  And  Christianity, 
as  it  is  more  than  a  dispensation  of  goodness,  in  the 
general  notion  of  goodness,  even  a  dispensation  of 
forgiveness,  of  mercy  and  favour  on  God's  part,  does  in 
a  peculiar  manner  heighten  our  obligations  to  charity 
among  ourselves.  In  this  was  manifested  the  love  of  God 
towards  us, — that  he  sent  his  Son  to  be  the  propitiation  for 
our  sins.  Beloved,  if  God  so  loved  us,  we  ought  also  to 
love  one  another*  With  what  unanswerable  force  is  that 
question  of  our  Lord  to  be  applied  to  every  branch  of  this 
duty,  Shouldest  not  thou  also  have  compassion  on  thy  fellow- 
servant,  even  as  I  had  pity  on  thee?\  And  can  there  be 
a  stronger  inducement  to  endeavour  the  reformation  of 
the  world,  and  bringing  it  to  a  sense  of  virtue  and  religion, 
than  the  assurance  given  us,  that  he  vjhich  convertcth  a 
sinner  from  the  error  of  his  way,  and,  in  like  manner,  he 
also  who  preventeth  a  person's  being  corrupted,  by  taking 
care  of  his  education,  shall  save  a  soul  from  death,  and 
Jiide  a  multitude  of  sins?t 

These  things  lead  us  to  the  following  observations  on 
the  several  charities,  which  arc  the  occasion  of  these 
annual  solemnities. 

1.  What  we  have  to  bestow  in  charity  being  a  trust, 
we  cannot  discharge  it  faithfully,  without  taking  some 
care  to  satisfy  ourselves  in  some  degree,  that  we  bestow 
it  upon  the  proper  objects  of  charity.  One  hears  ])ersons 
complaining,  that  it  is  difficult  to  distinguish  who  are 
such;  yet  often  seeming  to  forget,  that  this  is  a  reason 

♦  1  John  l7.  0. 10, 11.  t  Matt,  xviii.  33.  %  Jaruca  v.  10. 


206 


A  SERMON  PREACHED  BEFORE 


for  using  their  best  endeavours  to  do  it.  And  others 
make  a  custom  of  giving  to  idle  vagabonds :  a  kind  of 
charity,  very  improperly  so  called,  which  one  really 
wonders  people  can  allow  themselves  in  ;  merely  to  be 
relieved  from  importunity,  or  at  best  to  gratify  a  false  good 
nature.  For  they  cannot  but  know,  that  it  is,  at  least, 
very  doubtful,  whether  what  they  thus  give  will  not 
immediately  be  spent  in  riot  and  debauchery.  Or 
suppose  it  be  not,  yet  still  they  know,  they  do  a  great 
deal  of  certain  mischief,  by  encouraging  this  shameful 
trade  of  begging  in  the  streets,  and  all  the  disorders 
which  accompany  it.  But  the  charities  towards  which 
I  now  ask  your  assistance,  as  they  are  always  open,  so 
every  one  may  contribute  to  them  with  full  assurance, 
that  he  bestows  upon  proper  objects,  and  in  general  that 
he  does  vastly  more  good,  than  by  equal  sums  given 
separately  to  particular  persons.  For  that  these  charities 
really  have  these  advantages,  has  been  fully  made  out, 
by  some  who  have  gone  before  me  in  the  duty  I  am 
discharging,  and  by  the  reports  annually  published  at 
this  time. 

Here  the  Report  annexed  was  read. 

Let  us  thank  God  for  these  charities,  in  behalf  of  the 
poor;  and  also  on  our  own  behalf,  as  they  give  us  such 
clear  opportunities  of  doing  good.  Indeed  without  them, 
vice  and  misery,  of  which  there  is  still  so  much,  would 
abound  so  much  more  in  this  populous  city,  as  to  render 
it  scarce  an  habitable  place. 

2.  Amongst  the  peculiar  advantages  of  public  charities 
above  private  ones,  is  also  to  be  mentioned,  that  they  are 
examples  of  great  influence.  They  serve  for  perpetual 
memorials  of  what  I  have  been  observing,  of  the  relation 
which  subsists  between  the  rich  and  the  poor,  and  the 
duties  which  arise  out  of  it.  They  are  standing  admoni- 
tions to  all  within  sight  or  hearing  of  them,  to  go  and  do 
likewise*  Educating  poor  children  in  virtue  and  religion, 
relieving  the  sick,  and  correcting  offenders  in  order  to 
their  amendment,  are,  in  themselves,  some  of  the  very 
best  of  good  works.  These  charities  would  indeed  be 
the  glory  of  your  city,  though  their  influence  were 

♦  Luke  X.  37. 


THE  LORD  MAYOR,  ETC. 


207 


confined  to  it.  But  important  as  they  are  in  themselves, 
their  importance  still  increases,  by  their  being  examples 
to  the  rest  of  the  nation;  which,  in  process  of  time,  of 
course  copies  after  the  metropolis.  It  has  indeed  already 
imitated  every  one  of  these  charities;  for  of  late,  the 
most  difficult  and  expensive  of  them,  hospitals  for  the 
sick  and  wounded,  have  been  estabhshed;  some  within 
your  sight,  others  in  remote  parts  of  the  kingdom.  You 
will  give  me  leave  to  mention  particularly  that*  in  its 
second  trading  city;  which  is  conducted  with  such 
disinterested  fidelity  and  prudence,  as  I  dare  venture  to 
compare  with  yours.  Again,  there  are  particular  persons 
very  blameably  unactive  and  careless,  yet  not  without 
good  dispositions,  who,  by  these  charities,  are  reminded 
of  their  duty,  and  provoked  to  love  and  to  good  works^ 
And  let  me  add,  though  one  is  sorry  any  should  want  so 
slight  a  reason  for  contributing  to  the  most  excellent 
designs,  yet  if  any  are  supposed  to  do  so  merely  of  course, 
because  they  see  others  do  it,  still  they  help  to  support 
these  monuments  of  charity,  which  are  a  continued 
admonition  to  the  rich,  and  relief  to  the  poor:  and  herein 
all  good  men  rejoice,  as  St  Paul  speaks  of  himself  in  a 
like  case,  yea,  and  will  rejoice. t 

3.  As  all  human  schemes  admit  of  improvement,  all 
public  charities,  methinks,  should  be  considered  as 
standing  open  to  proposals  for  it ;  that  the  whole  plan  of 
them,  in  all  its  parts,  may  be  brought  to  as  great  perfec- 
tion as  is  possible.  Now  it  should  seem,  that  employing 
some  share  of  the  children's  time  in  easy  labour,  suitable 
to  their  age,  which  is  done  in  some  of  our  charity  schools, 
might  be  done  in  most  others  of  them,  with  very  good 
effect;  as  it  is  in  all  those  of  a  neii::hbouring  kingdom. 
Then  as  the  only  purposes  of  punishments  less  than 

*  As  it  is  of  very  particular  l)riif  fit  to  llioso,  who  oufht  always  to  ho  hnikrd  upon 
with  particular  fivour  l)y  us,  I  nit  an  our  st  aux  n  ;  so  lik(M\  isr  it  is  ot  very  rxt«'ii>.i vr 
h«Mi»  fii  to  llu-  l;irf;-('  tracts  of  coutitry  west  aial  north  of  it.  'I  lu  n  the  nu  tlicinul  waters 
near  the  city  rentier  it  a  still  more  jiroper  siliuiliun  h)r  an  infii  niary.  An«l  so  likewise 
does  its  neighhotirhood  to  llie  Hath  hospiijil.  For  it  may  u  «  ll  l)e  supposril.  that  s«>me 
})iM»r  ohjeets  will  he  sent  ihitlier  in  hopes  of  n  lief  from  the  Hath  waters,  whose  cjisp 
may  afterwanls  be  foinui  to  n  quire  the  nssisl;ince  of  physic  or  surjfery  :  and  on  Uie 
other  hand,  that  some  ujay  Iw  sent  to  our  infirmary  for  help  from  iliose  arts,  whose 
Ctsr  nmy  he  found  to  require  the  Haih  waters.  So  that  if  I  am  iu>t  preatly  partial, 
the  HriNtol  uifirniary  as  much  deserves  encourageuient  as  any  chantahle  foiuiiltuion  in 
the  kingdom.  f  11.  h.  x.  '^\.  X  IMid.  i.  18. 


208 


A  SERMON  PREACHED  BEFORE 


capital  are  to  reform  the  offenders  themselves,  and  warn 
the  innocent  by  their  example,  every  thing  which  should 
contribute  to  make  this  kind  of  punishments  answer  these 
purposes  better  than  it  does,  would  be  a  great  improve- 
ment. And  whether  it  be  not  a  thing  practicable,  and 
what  would  contribute  somewhat  towards  it,  to  exclude 
utterly  all  sorts  of  revel-mirth  from  places  where  offenders 
are  confined,  to  separate  the  young  from  the  old,  and 
force  them  both,  in  solitude,  with  labour  and  low  diet,  to 
make  the  experiment,  how  far  their  natural  strength  of 
mind  can  support  them  under  guilt  and  shame  and 
poverty;  this  may  deserve  consideration.  Then  again, 
some  religious  instruction  particularly  adapted  to  their 
condition  would  as  properly  accompany  those  punishments 
which  are  intended  to  reform,  as  it  does  capital  ones. 
God  forbid  that  I  should  be  understood  to  discourage  the 
provision  which  is  made  for  it  in  this  latter  case;  I 
heartily  wish  it  were  better  than  it  is;  especially  since  it 
may  well  be  supposed,  as  the  state  of  religion  is  at  present 
among  us,  that  some  condemned  malefactors  may  have 
never  had  the  doctrine  of  the  gospel  enforced  upon  their 
consciences.  But  since  it  must  be  acknowledged  of 
greater  consequence,  in  a  religious  as  well  as  civil  respect, 
how  persons  live,  than  how  they  die;  it  cannot  but  be 
even  more  incumibent  on  us  to  endeavour,  in  all  ways,  to 
reclaim  those  offenders  who  are  to  return  again  into  the 
world,  than  those  who  are  to  be  removed  out  of  it :  and 
the  only  effectual  means  of  reclaiming  them,  is  to  instil 
into  them  a  principle  of  religion.  If  persons  of  authority 
and  influence  would  take  things  of  this  and  a  like  kind 
under  their  consideration,  they  might  perhaps  still 
improve  those  charities ;  which  are  already,  I  truly  believe, 
under  a  better  management  than  any  other  of  so  large  a 
compass  in  the  world.  But, 

4.  With  regard  to  the  two  particular  branches  of  them 
last  mentioned,  I  would  observe,  that  our  laws  and  whole 
constitution,  civil  and  ecclesiastical,  go  more  upon  sup- 
position of  an  equality  amongst  mankind,  than  the 
constitution  and  laws  of  other  countries.  Now  this 
plainly  requires  that  more  particular  regard  should  be 
had  to  the  education  of  the  lower  people  here,  than  in 


THE  LORD  MAYOR,  ETC. 


209 


places,  where  they  are  born  slaves  of  power,  and  to  be 
made  slaves  of  superstition.  It  is,  I  suppose,  acknowledged, 
that  they  have  greater  liberty  here,  than  they  have  any 
where  else  in  the  world.  But  unless  care  be  taken  for 
giving  them  some  inward  principle,  to  prevent  their  abus- 
ing this  greater  liberty  which  is  their  birthright,  can  we 
expect  it  will  prove  a  blessing  to  them.^  or  will  they  not 
in  all  probability  become  more  dissolute,  or  more  wild 
and  extravagant,  whatever  wrong  turn  they  happen  to 
take,  than  people  of  the  same  rank  in  other  countries  .^^ 

5.  Let  me  again  remind  you  of  the  additional  reason, 
which  persons  of  fortune  have  to  take  particular  care  of 
their  whole  behaviour,  that  it  be  in  all  respects  good  and 
exemplary,  upon  account  of  the  influence  which  it  will 
have  upon  the  manners  of  their  inferiors.    And  pray 
observe  how  strictly  this  is  connected  with  the  occasion 
of  our  present  meeting;  how  much  your  good  behaviour 
in  private  life  will  contribute  to  promote  the  good  design 
of  all  these  charities ;  and  how  much  the  contrary  would 
tend  to  defeat  it,  and  even  to  produce  the  evils  which 
they  are  intended  to  prevent  or  to  remedy.  Whatever 
care  be  taken  in  the  education  of  these  poor  children  at 
school,  there  is  always  danger  of  their  being  corrupted, 
when  they  come  from  it.    And  this  danger  is  greater,  in 
proportion  to  the  greater  wickedness  of  the  age  they  are 
to  pass  through.    But  if,  upon  their  coming  abroad  into 
the  world,  they  And  the  principles  of  virtue  and  religion 
recommended  by  the  example  of  their  superiors,  and  vice 
and  irreligion  really  discountenanced,  this  will  confirm 
them  in  the  good  principles  in  which  they  have  been 
brought  up,  and  give  the  best  ground  to  hope  they  will 
never  depart  from  them.    And  the  like  is  to  be  said  of 
offenders,  who  may  have  had  a  sense  of  virtue  and 
religion  wrought  in  them,  under  the  discipline  of  labour 
and  confinement.     Again  ;    dissolute  and  debauched 
persons  of  fortune  greatly  increase  the  general  corruption 
of  manners;  and  this  is  what  increases  want  and  misery 
of  all  kinds.    So  that  they  may  contribute  largely  to  any 
or  all  of  these  charities,  and  yet  undo  but  a  very  small 
part  of  the  mischief  which  they  do,  by  th(  ir  examplr,  as 
well  as  in  other  ways.     Hut  still  this  mischief  which  they 

o 


210 


A  SERMON,  ETC. 


do,  suppose  by  their  example,  is  an  additional  reason 
why  they  should  contribute  to  them;  even  in  justice  to 
particular  persons,  in  whose  ruin  they  may  have  an 
unknown  share  of  guilt;  or  however  injustice  to  society 
in  general;  for  which  they  will  deserve  commendation, 
how  blameable  soever  they  are  for  the  other.  And 
mdeed  amidst  the  dark  prospect  before  us,  from  that 
profligateness  of  manners,  and  scorn  of  religion,  which 
so  generally  abound,  this  good  spirit  of  charity  lo  the 
poor  discovering  itself  in  so  great  a  degree,  upon  these 
occasions,  and  likewise  in  the  late  necessitous  time, 
even  amongst  persons  far  from  being  blameless  in  other 
respects;  this  cannot  but  afford  hopes,  that  we  are  not 
given  over  by  Providence,  and  also  that  they  themselves 
will  at  length  consider,  and  not  go  on  contributing,  by 
the  example  of  their  vices,  to  the  introduction  of  that 
distress,  which  they  so  commendably  relieve  by  their 
liberality. 

To  conclude:  Let  our  charity  towards  men  be  exalted 
into  piety  towards  God,  from  the  serious  consideration, 
that  we  are  all  his  creatures;  a  consideration  which 
enforces  that  duty  upon  our  consciences,  as  we  have  any 
regard  to  him.  This  kind  of  adjuration,  and  a  most 
solemn  one  it  is,  one  often  hears  profaned  by  a  very 
unworthy  sort  of  people,  when  they  ask  relief  for  God's 
sake.  But  surely  the  principle  itself,  which  contains  in 
it  every  thing  great,  and  just,  and  good,  is  grievously 
forgotten  among  us.  To  relieve  the  poor  for  God's  sake, 
is  to  do  it  in  conformity  to  the  order  of  nature,  and  to 
his  will,  and  his  example,  who  is  the  Author  and  Gover- 
nor of  it;  and  in  thankful  remembrance,  that  all  we 
have  is  from  his  bounty.  It  is  to  do  it  in  his  behalf,  and 
as  to  him.  For  he  that  hath  pity  upon  the  poor  lendcth 
unto  the  Lord:*  and  our  Saviour  has  declared,  that  he 
will  take  as  given  to  himself,  what  is  given  in  a  well- 
chosen  charity.t  Lastly,  it  is  to  do  it  under  a  sense  of 
the  account  which  will  be  required  of  what  is  committed 
to  our  trust,  when  the  rich  and  poor  j  who  meet  hereupon 
terms  of  so  great  inequality,  shall  meet  hereafter  upon  a 
level,  before  him  who  is  the  Maker  of  them  alL 

♦  Prov.  xix.  17.  t  Matt.  xxv.  40, 


A  SERMON,  ETC. 


211 


SERMON  III. 

PREACHED  BEFORE  THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS,  IN  THE  ABBEY-CHURCH  OF  WEST- 
MINSTER, ON  FRIDAY,  JANUARY  30,  1740-41,  BEING  THE  DAY  APPOINTED  TO 
BE  OBSERVED  AS  THE  DAY  OF  THE  MARTYRDOM  OF  KING  CHARLES  I. 

And  not  using  your  liberty  for  a  cloak  of  maliciousness y  hut  as  the 
servants  of  God. — 1  Peter  ii.  IG. 

A  HISTORY  so  fall  of  important  and  interesting  events  as 
that  which  this  day  recalls  annually  to  our  thoughts, 
cannot  but  afford  them  very  different  subjects  for  their 
most  serious  and  useful  employment.  But  there  seems 
none  which  it  more  naturally  leads  us  to  consider  than 
that  of  hypocrisy,  as  it  sets  before  us  so  many  examples 
of  it;  or  which  will  yield  us  more  practical  instruction, 
as  these  examples  so  forcibly  admonish  us,  not  only  to 
be  upon  our  guard  against  the  pernicious  effects  of  this 
vice  in  others^  but  also  to  watch  over  our  own  hearts, 
against  every  thing  of  the  like  kind  in  ourselves:  for 
hypocrisy,  in  the  moral  and  religious  consideration  of 
things,  is  of  much  larger  extent  than  every  one  may 
imagine. 

In  common  language,  which  is  formed  upon  the  com- 
mon intercourses  amongst  men,  hypocrisy  signifies  little 
more  than  their  pretending  what  they  really  do  not 
mean,  in  order  to  delude  one  another.  But  in  Scripture, 
which  treats  chiefly  of  our  behaviour  towards  God  and 
our  own  consciences,  it  signifies,  not  only  the  endeavour 
to  delude  our  fellow  creatures,  but  likewise  insincerity 
towards  him,  and  towards  ourselves.  And  therefore, 
according  to  the  whole  analogy  of  Scripture  language, 
to  use  liberty  as  a  cloak  oj'  maliciousness  *  must  be  undcr- 

*  The  hypocrisy  laki  to  the  diarj^e  of  tho  Ph.irisoos  niid  Saddtircos,  in  Mjitt.  xvi.  nt 
the  b«'ffiiiiiiiitr,  jiiul  ill  Luke  xii,  54,  is  dcterniioatply  this,  that  thrir  virions  pjwsiojns 
brnKlj'ilthfin  s<)  as  to  prevent  tlieir  disceriiiii'j^  tln'  evidence  ()t"»»ur  Siivioiir's  mission  ; 
thoiifijh  no  more  understanding  was  necessiiry  to  iliscern  it,  tJian  w^mt  tliey  liad.  aitd 
made  use  of  in  connnnn  nuitters.  Here  they  are  railed  hypocrites  merely  upon 
nccourjl  of  thi-ir  insincerity  loNvanls  (icnl  anil  Uieir  ov*.  ii  ronstriences,  and  not  iit  all 
upon  account  of  any  insincerity  towards  men.  This  last  indee<l  is  irwliuhnl  in  that 
general  hypocrisy,  which,  throua^hout  the  irospelsis  rrprest-nled  as  their <lLstiiinniished 
cliaracler  ;  hut  the  former  isaii  much  incluthHi.  For  tlu-y  were  not  nu  n,  who,  without 
nny  belief  at  all  of  religion,  ptit  on  the  apjieanmce  of  it  only  in  order  tn  jli'ceive  tho 
world  :  on  the  contra^',  they  believed  their  religioH,  and  were  zealous  in  iU  Hut  their 

ua 


212 


A  SERMON  PREACHED  BEFORE 


stood  to  mean,  not  only  endeavouring  to  impose  upon 
others,  by  indulging  wayward  passions,  or  carrying  on 
indirect  designs,  under  pretences  of  it;  but  also  excusing 
and  palliating  such  things  to  ourselves ;  serving  ourselves 
of  such  pretences  to  quiet  our  own  minds  in  any  thing 
which  is  wrong. 

Liberty  in  the  writings  of  the  New  Testament,  for  the 
most  part,  signifies,  being  delivered  from  the  bondage  of 
the  ceremonial  law;  or  of  sin  and  the  devil,  which  St 
Paul  calls  the  glorious  liberty  of  the  children  of  God* 
This  last  is  a  progressive  state :  and  the  perfection  of  it, 
whether  attainable  in  this  world  or  not,  consists  in  that 
perfect  love,i  which  St  John  speaks  of;  and  which,  as  it 
implies  an  entire  coincidence  of  our  wills  with  the  will 
of  God,  must  be  a  state  of  the  most  absolute  freedom,  in 
the  most  literal  and  proper  sense.  But  whatever  St 
Peter  distinctly  meant  by  this  word,  liberty,  the  text  gives 
occasion  to  consider  any  kind  of  it,  which  is  liable  to  the 
abuse  he  here  warns  us  against.  However,  it  appears 
that  he  meant  to  comprehend  that  liberty,  were  it  more 

religion,  which  they  believed,  and  were  zealous  in,  was  in  its  nature  hypocritical : 
for  it  was  the  form,  not  the  reality;  it  allowed  them  in  immoral  practices;  and 
indeed  was  itself  in  some  respects  immoral,  as  they  indulged  their  pride  and  uncha- 
ritableness  under  the  notion  of  zeal  for  it.  See  Jer.  ix.  6,  Psalm  Ixxviii.  36.  Job  iii.  19. 
and  Matt.  xv.  7 — 14.  and  xxiii.  13,  16,  19,  24,  26.  where  hypocrite  and  blind  are  used 
promiscuously.  Again,  the  Scripture  speaks  of  the  deceitfxdness  of  sin;  and  its 
deceiving  those  who  are  guilty  of  it:  Heb.  iii.  13.  Eph.  iv.  22.  Rom.  vii.  11.  of  men's 
acting  as  if  they  could  deceive  and  mock  God:  Is.  xxix.  15.  Acts  v.  3.  Gal.  vi.  7.  of 
their  blinding  their  oum  eyes :  ]\Iatt.  iii.  15.  Acts  xxviii.  27.  and  deceiving  themselves; 
which  is  quite  a  dilferent  thing  from  being  deceived.  1  Cor.  iii.  18.  1  John  i.  8. 
Galatians  vi.  3.  James  i.  22,  26.  Many  more  coincident  passages  might  be  men- 
tioned :  but  I  will  add  only  one.  In  2  Thess.  ii.  it  is  foretold  that  by  means  of  some 
force,  some  energy  of  delnswfi,  men  should  believe  the  lie  wliich  is  there  treated  of: 
t\ih  force  of  delusion  is  not  any  thing  without  them,  but  somewhat  within  them,  which 
it  is  expressly  said  they  should  bring  upon  themselves,  by  not  receiving  the  love  of  the 
truth,  but  having  pleasure  in  unrighteousness.  Answering  to  all  this  is  tJiat  very 
remarkable  passage  of  our  Lord,  Matt.  vi.  22,  23.  Luke  xi.  34,  35.  and  that  admoni- 
tion repeated  fourteen  times  in  the  New  Testament ;  He  that  hath  ears  to  hear,  let 
him  hear.  And  the  ground  of  this  whole  manner  of  considering  things;  for  it  is  not 
to  I)e  spoken  of  as  only  a  peculiar  kind  of  phraseology,  but  is  a  most  accurate  and 
strictly  just  manner  of  considering  characters  and  moral  conduct ;  the  ground  of  it 
I  say,  is,  that  when  persons  will  not  be  influenced  by  such  evidence  in  religion  as 
they  act  upon  in  the  daily  course  of  life,  or  when  their  notions  of  religion  (and  I 
might  add  of  virtue)  are  in  any  sort  reconcileable  with  what  is  vicious,  it  is  some 
faulty  negligence  or  prejudice  whicli  thus  deludes  them  ;  in  very  different  ways, 
perhaps,  and  very  different  degrees.  But  when  any  one  is  thus  deluded  through  his 
own  fault,  in  whatever  way  or  degree  it  is,  he  deludes  himself  And  this  is  as  pro- 
perly hypocrisy  towards  himself,  as  deluding  the  world  is  hypocrisy  towards  the 
world:  and  he  who  is  guilty  of  it  acts  as  if  he  could  deceive  and  mock  God;  and 
therefore  is  an  hyp(XTite  towards  him,  in  as  strict  and  literal  a  sense  as  the  nature  of 
the  subject  will  admit. 

*  Rom.  viii.  21.  +1  John  iv.  18. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 


213 


or  less,  which  they  to  whom  he  was  writing  enjoyed  under 
civil  government:  for  of  civil  government  he  is  speaking 
just  before  and  afterwards:  Submit  yourselves  to  every 
ordinance  of  man  for  the  Lord's  sake:  v)h€ther  it  be  to  the 
king,  as  supreme;  or  unto  governor s,  as  unto  them  that  are 
sent  by  him.  For  so  is  the  icill  of  God,  that  with  v^ell- 
doing,  of  which  dutiful  behaviour  towards  authority  is  a 
very  material  instance,  ye  may  put  to  silence  the  ignorance 
of  foolish  men:*  as  free,  perhaps  in  distinction  from  the 
servile  state,  of  which  he  speaks  afterwards,  and  not 
usin/j  your  liberty  for  a  cloak  of  maliciousness, ^  of  any 
thing  wrong,  for  so  the  word  signifies;  and  therefore 
comprehends  petulance,  affection  of  popularity,  with  any 
other  like  frivolous  turn  of  mind,  as  well  as  the  more 
hateful  and  dangerous  passions,  such  as  malice,  or  am- 
bition; for  all  of  which  liberty  may  equally  be  used  as  a 
cloak.  The  apostle  adds,  but  as  the  servants  of  God:  as 
free — but  as  his  servants,  who  requires  dutiful  submission 
to  every  ordinance  of  man,  to  magistracy;  and  to  whom 
we  are  accountable  for  our  manner  of  using  the  liberty 
we  enjoy  under  it;  as  well  as  for  all  other  parts  of  our 
behaviour.  Not  using  your  liberty  as  a  cloak  of  malici- 
ousness, but  as  the  servants  of  God. 

Here  are  three  things  offered  to  our  consideration : 
First,  A  general  supposition,  that  what  is  wrong  cannot 
be  avowed  in  its  proper  colours,  but  stands  in  need  of 
some  cloak  to  be  thrown  over  it:  Secondly,  A  particular 
one,  that  there  is  danger,  some  singular  danger,  of  liberty's 
])eing  made  use  of  for  this  purpose:  Lastly,  An  admoni- 
tion not  to  make  tliis  ill  use  of  our  liberty,  but  to  use  it 
as  the  servants  of  God, 

I.  Here  is  a  general  supposition,  that  what  is  wrong 
cannot  be  avowed  in  its  proper  colours,  but  stands  in 
need  of  some  cloak  to  be  thrown  over  it.  God  lias 
constituted  our  nature,  and  the  nature  of  society,  after 
such  a  manner,  that  generally  speaking,  men  cannot 
encourage  or  support  themselves  in  wickedn(\ss  upon  the 
foot  of  there  being  no  difference  ])etween  right  and  wrong, 
or  by  a  direct  avowal  of  wrong;  but  by  disguising  it,  and 
endeavouring  to  spread  over  it  some  colours  of  right. 

•  1  Pet.  ii.  13—15.  t  Vrr.  16. 


214 


A  SERMON  PREACHED  BEFORE 


And  they  do  this  in  every  capacity  and  every  respect^ 
in  which  there  is  a  right  or  a  wrong.  They  do  it,  not 
only  as  social  creatures  under  civil  government,  but  also 
as  moral  agents  under  the  government  of  God ;  in  one 
case  to  make  a  proper  figure  in  the  world,  and  delude 
their  fellow  creatures;  in  the  other  to  keep  peace  within 
themselves,  and  delude  their  own  consciences.  And  the 
delusion  in  both  cases  being  voluntary,  is,  in  Scripture, 
called  by  one  name,  and  spoken  against  in  the  same 
manner:  though  doubtless  they  are  much  more  explicit 
with  themselves,  and  more  distinctly  conscious  of  what 
they  are  about,  in  one  case  than  in  the  other. 

The  fundamental  laws  of  all  governments  are  virtuous 
ones,  prohibiting  treachery,  injustice,  cruelty:  and  the 
law  of  reputation  enforces  those  civil  laws,  by  rendering 
these  vices  everywhere  infamous,  and  the  contrary 
virtues  honourable  and  of  good  report.  Thus  far  the 
constitution  of  society  is  visibly  moral:  and  hence  it  is, 
that  men  cannot  live  in  it  without  taking  care  to  cover 
those  vices  when  they  have  them,  and  make  some 
profession  of  the  opposite  virtues,  fidelity,  justice,  kind 
regard  to  others,  when  they  have  them  not:  but  espe- 
cially is  this  necessary  in  order  to  disguise  and  colour 
over  indirect  purposes,  which  require  the  concurrence 
of  several  persons. 

Now  all  false  pretences  of  this  kind  are  to  be  called 
hypocritical,  as  being  contrary  to  simplicity;  though  not 
always  designed,  properly  speaking,  to  beget  a  false 
belief.  For  it  is  to  be  observed,  that  they  are  often 
made  without  any  formal  intention  to  have  them  be- 
lieved, or  to  have  it  thought  that  there  is  any  reality 
under  these  pretences.  Many  examples  occur  of  verbal 
professions  of  fidelity,  justice,  public  regards,  in  cases 
where  there  could  be  no  imagination  of  their  being 
believed.  And  what  other  account  can  be  given  oi 
these  merely  verbal  professions,  but  that  they  were 
thought  the  proper  language  for  the  public  ear;  and 
made  in  business  for  the  very  same  kind  of  reasons  as 
civility  is  kept  up  in  conversation  ? 

These  false  professions  of  virtue,  which  men  have,  in 
all  ages,  found  it  necessary  to  make  their  appearance 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 


215 


with  abroad,  must  have  been  originally  taken  up  in 
order  to  deceive  in  the  proper  sense:  then  they  became 
habitual,  and  often  intended  merely  by  way  of  form: 
yet  often  still,  to  serve  their  original  purpose  of 
deceiving. 

There  is  doubtless  amongst  mankind  a  great  deal  of 
this  hypocrisy  towards  each  other:  but  not  so  much  as 
may  sometimes  be  supposed.  For  part  which  has,  at 
first  sight,  this  appearance,  is  in  reality  that  other 
hypocrisy  before  mentioned;  that  self-deceit,  of  which 
the  Scripture  so  remarkably  takes  notice.  There  are 
indeed  persons  who  live  without  God  in  the  world:  *  and 
some  appear  so  hardened  as  to  keep  no  measures  with 
themselves.  But  as  very  ill  men  may  have  a  real  and 
strong  sense  of  virtue  and  religion,  in  proportion  as  this 
is  the  case  with  any,  they  cannot  be  easy  within 
themselves  but  by  deluding  their  consciences.  And 
though  they  should,  in  great  measure,  get  over  their 
religion,  yet  this  will  not  do.  For  as  long  as  they  carry 
about  with  them  any  such  sense  of  things,  as  makes 
them  condemn  what  is  wrong  in  others,  they  could  not 
but  condemn  the  same  in  themselves,  and  dislike  and 
be  disgusted  with  their  own  character  and  conduct,  if 
they  would  consider  them  distinctly,  and  in  a  full  light. 
But  this  sometimes  they  carelessly  neglect  to  do,  and 
sometimes  carefully  avoid  doing.  And  as  the  integrity 
of  the  upriglit  guides  him,f  guides  even  a  man's  judgment: 
so  wickedness  may  distort  it  to  such  a  degree,  as  that 
he  may  ccdl  evil  good,  and  good  evil;  jnd  darkness  for 
light,  and  light  for  darkness ;t  and  think  wickedly,  that 
God  is  such  an  one  as  himself  i  Even  the  better  sort  of 
men  are,  in  some  degree,  liable  to  disguise  and  palliate 
their  failings  to  themselves:  ljut  perhaps  there  are  few 
men  who  go  on  calmly  in  a  course  of  very  bad  things, 
without  somewhat  of  the  kind  now  described  in  a  very 
high  degree.  They  try  appearances  upon  themselves  as 
well  as  upon  the  world,  and  with  at  least  as  much 
success;  and  choose  to  manage  so  as  to  make  their  own 
minds  easy  with  their  faults,  which  can  scarce  be  without 
management,  rather  than  to  mend  them. 

•  Eph.  ii.  li*.         f  Piov.  xi.  a         %  Ifa.  v.  20.         <J  PsfUm  1.  21. 


216 


A  SERMON  PREACHED  BEFORE 


But  whether  from  men's  deluding  themselves,  or  from 
their  intending  to  delude  the  world,  it  is  evident  scarce 
any  thing  wrong  in  public  has  ever  been  accomplished, 
or  even  attempted,  but  under  false  colours:  either  by- 
pretending  one  thing,  which  was  right,  to  be  designed, 
when  it  was  really  another  thing,  which  was  wrong;  or 
if  that  which  was  wrong  was  avowed,  by  endeavouring 
to  give  it  some  appearance  of  right.  For  tyranny,  and 
faction  so  friendly  to  it,  and  which  is  indeed  tyranny  out 
of  power,  and  unjust  wars,  and  persecution,  by  which 
the  earth  has  been  laid  waste ;  all  this  has  all  along  been 
carried  on  with  pretences  of  truth,  right,  general  good. 
So  it  is,  men  cannot  find  in  their  heart  to  join  in  such 
things,  without  such  honest  words  to  be  the  bond  of  the 
union,  though  they  know  among  themselves,  that  they 
are  only  words,  and  often  though  they  know,  that  every 
body  else  knows  it  too. 

These  observations  might  be  exemplified  by  numerous 
instances  in  the  history  which  led  to  them:  and  without 
them  it  is  impossible  to  understand  in  any  sort  the 
general  character  of  the  chief  actors  in  it,  who  were 
engaged  in  the  black  design  of  subverting  the  constitution 
of  their  country.  This  they  completed  with  the  most 
enormous  act  of  mere  power,  in  defiance  of  all  laws  of 
God  and  man,  and  in  express  contradiction  to  the  real 
design  and  public  votes  of  that  assembly,  whose 
commission,  they  professed,  was  their  only  warrant  for 
any  thing  they  did  throughout  the  whole  rebellion.  Yet 
with  unheard-of  hypocrisy  towards  men,  towards  God 
and  their  own  consciences,  for  v/ithout  such  a  complica- 
tion of  it  their  conduct  is  inexplicable;  even  this  action, 
which  so  little  admitted  of  any  cloak,  was,  we  know, 
contrived  and  carried  into  execution,  under  pretences  of 
authority,  religion,  liberty,  and  by  profaning  the  forms 
of  justice  in  an  arraignment  and  trial,  like  to  what  is 
used  in  regular  legal  procedures.  No  age  indeed  can 
show  an  example  of  hypocrisy  parallel  to  this.  But  the 
history  of  all  ages  and  all  countries  will  show,  what  has 
been  really  going  forward  over  the  face  of  the  earth,  to 
be  very  different  from  what  has  been  always  pretended; 
and  that  virtue  has  been  every  where  professed  much 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 


217 


more  than  it  has  been  any  where  practised;  nor  could 
society,  from  the  very  nature  of  its  constitution,  subsist 
without  some  general  public  profession  of  it.  Thus  the 
face  and  appearance  which  the  world  has  in  all  times  put 
on,  for  the  ease  and  ornament  of  life,  and  in  pursuit  of 
farther  ends,  is  the  justest  satire  upon  what  has  in  all 
times  been  carrying  on  under  it :  and  ill  men  are  destined, 
by  the  condition  of  their  being  as  social  creatures,  always 
to  bear  about  with  them,  and,  in  different  degrees,  to 
profess,  that  law  of  virtue,  by  which  they  shall  finally  be 
judged  and  condemned. 

II.  x\s  fair  pretences,  of  one  sort  or  other,  have  thus 
always  been  made  use  of  by  mankind  to  colour  over 
indirect  and  wrong  designs  from  the  world,  and  to  paUiate 
and  excuse  them  to  their  own  minds;  liberty,  in  common 
with  all  other  good  things,  is  liable  to  be  made  this  use  of, 
and  is  also  liable  to  it  in  a  way  more  peculiar  to  itself: 
which  was  the  second  thing  to  be  considered. 

In  the  history  which  this  day  refers  us  to,  we  find  our 
constitution,  in  Church  and  State,  destroyed  under 
pretences,  not  only  of  religion,  but  of  securing  liberty, 
and  carrying  it  to  a  greater  height.  The  destruction  of 
the  former  was  with  zeal  of  such  a  kind,  as  would  not 
have  been  warrantable,  though  it  had  been  employed  in 
the  destruction  of  heathenism.  And  the  confusions,  the 
persecuting  spirit,  and  incredible  fanaticism,  which  grew 
up  upon  its  ruins,  cannot  but  teach  sober-minded  men  to 
reverence  so  mild  and  reasonable  an  establishment,  now 
it  is  restored;  for  the  preservation  of  Christianity,  and 
keeping  up  a  sense  of  it  amongst  us,  and  for  the  instruc- 
tion and  guide  of  the  ignorant;  nay  were  it  only  for 
guarding  religion  from  such  extravagances:  es])ecially 
as  these  important  purposes  are  served  by  it  without  beiriLr 
hard  in  the  least  upon  any. 

And  the  concurrent  course  of  things,  wliich  brought 
on  the  ruin  of  our  civil  constitution,  and  what  foUowcd 
upon  it,  are  no  less  instructive.  The  opposition,  by  legal 
and  parliamentary  methods,  to  prerogatives  imknown  to 
the  constitution,  was  doubtless  formed  upon  the  justest 
fears  in  behalf  of  it.  But  new  distrusts  arose:  new 
causes  were  given  for  them :  these  were  mo^t  unreasonably 


218 


A  SERMON  PREACHED  BEFORE 


aggravated.  The  better  part  gradually  gave  way  to  the 
more  violent:  and  the  better  part  themselves  seem  to 
have  insisted  upon  impracticable  securities  against  that 
one  danger  to  liberty,  of  which  they  had  too  great  cause 
to  be  apprehensive;  and  wonderfully  overlooked  all 
dangers  to  it,  which  yet  were,  and  ever  will  be,  many  and 
great.  Thus  they  joined  in  the  current  measures,  till 
they  were  utterly  unable  to  stop  the  mischiefs,  to  which, 
with  too  much  distrust  on  one  side,  and  too  little  on  the 
other,  they  had  contributed.  Never  was  a  more 
remarkable  example  of  the  Wise  Man's  observation,  that 
the  beginning  of  strife  is  as  when  one  letteth  out  water. ^ 
For  this  opposition,  thus  begun,  surely  without  intent  of 
proceeding  to  violence ;  yet,  as  it  went  on,  like  an  over- 
flowing stream  in  its  progress,  it  collected  all  sort  of 
impurities,  and  grew  more  outrageous  as  it  grew  more 
corrupted ;  till  at  length  it  bore  down  every  thing  good 
before  it.  This  naturally  brought  on  arbitrary  power  in 
one  shape,  which  was  odious  to  every  body,  and  which 
could  not  be  accommodated  to  the  forms  of  our  constitu^ 
tion  ;  and  put  us  in  the  utmost  danger  of  having  it  entailed 
upon  us  under  another,  which  might.  For  at  the  king's 
return,  such  was  the  just  indignation  of  the  public  at 
what  it  had  seen,  and  fear  of  feeling  again  what  it  had 
felt,  from  the  popular  side;  such  the  depression  and 
compliance,  not  only  of  the  more  guilty,  but  also  of  those, 
who  with  better  meaning  had  gone  on  with  them;  and  a 
great  deal  too  far  many  of  this  character  had  gone;  and 
such  the  undistinguishing  distrust  the  people  had  of 
them  all,  that  the  chief  security  of  our  liberties  seems  to 
have  been,  their  not  being  attempted  at  that  time. 

But  though  persons  contributed  to  all  this  mischief 
and  danger  with  different  degrees  of  guilt,  none  could 
contribute  to  them  with  innocence,  who  at  all  knew' 
wliat  they  were  about.  Indeed  the  destruction  of  a  freb 
constitution  of  government,  though  men  see  or  fancy 
many  defects  in  it,  and  whatever  they  design  or  pretend, 
ought  not  to  be  thought  of  without  horror.  For  the  de- 
sign is  in  itself  unjust,  since  it  is  romantic  to  suppose  it 
legal:  iK  cannot  be  prosecuted  without  the  most  wicked 

•  Pcov.  xvii.  14. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 


219 


means ;  nor  accomplished  but  with  the  present  ruin  oi 
liberty,  religious  as  well  as  civil ;  for  it  must  be  the  ruin 
of  its  present  security.  Whereas  the  restoration  of  it 
must  depend  upon  a  thousand  future  contingencies,  the 
integrity,  understanding,  power  of  the  persons,  into 
whose  hands  anarchy  and  confusion  should  throw  things ; 
and  who  they  will  be,  the  history  before  us  may  surely 
serve  to  show,  no  human  foresight  can  determine  ;  even 
though  such  a  terrible  crisis  were  to  happen  in  an  age, 
not  distinguished  for  the  want  of  principle  and  public 
spirit,  and  when  nothing  particular  were  to  be  appre- 
hended from  abroad.  It  would  be  partiality  to  say,  that 
no  constitution  of  government  can  possibly  be  imagined 
more  perfect  than  our  own.  And  ingenuous  youth  may 
be  warmed  with  the  idea  of  one,  against  which  nothing 
can  be  objected.  But  it  is  the  strongest  objection  against 
attempting  to  put  in  practice  the  most  perfect  theory,  that 
it  is  impracticable,  or  too  dangerous  to  be  attempted. 
And  whoever  will  thoroughly  consider,  in  what  degree 
mankind  are  really  influenced  by  reason,  and  in  what 
degree  by  custom,  may,  I  think,  be  convinced,  that  the 
state  of  human  affairs  does  not  even  admit  of  an  equiva- 
lent for  the  mischief  of  setting  things  afloat;  and  the 
danger  of  parting  with  those  securities  of  liberty,  which 
arise  from  regulations  of  long  prescription  and  ancient 
usage;  especially  at  a  time  when  the  directors  are  so 
very  numerous,  and  the  obedient  so  few.  Reasonable 
men  therefore  will  look  upon  the  general  plan  of  our 
constitution,  transmitted  down  to  us  by  our  ancestors,  as 
sacred;  and  content  themselves  with  calmly  doing  what 
their  station  requires,  towards  rectifying  the  particular 
things  which  they  think  amiss,  Tind  supplying  the  parti- 
cular things  which  they  think  deficient  in  it,'so  far  as  is 
practicable  without  endangering  the  whole. 

But  liberty  is  in  many  other  dangers  from  itself,  be- 
sides those  which  arise  from  formed  designs  of  destroying 
it,  under  hypocritical  pretences,  or  romantic  schemes  of 
restoring  it  upon  a  more  perfect  plan.  It  is  particularly 
liable  to  become  excessive,  and  to  degenerate  insensibly 
into  licentiousness;  in  the  same  manner  as  liberality, 
for  example,  is   apt  to  degenerate  into  extravagance. 


220 


A  SERMON  PREACHED  BEFORE 


And  as  men  cloak  their  extravagance  to  themselves 
under  the  notion  of  liberality,  and  to  the  world  under 
the  name  of  it,  so  licentiousness  passes  under  the  name 
and  notion  of  liberty.  Now  it  is  to  be  observed,  that 
there  is,  in  some  respects  or  other,  a  very  peculiar 
contrariety  between  those  vices  which  consist  in  excess, 
and  the  virtues  of  which  they  are  said  to  be  the  excess, 
and  the  resemblance,  and  whose  names  they  affect  to 
bear;  the  excess  of  any  thing  being  always  to  its  hurt, 
and  tending  to  its  destruction.  In  this  manner  licen- 
tiousness is,  in  its  very  nature,  a  present  infringement 
upon  liberty,  and  dangerous  to  it  for  the  future.  Yet  it 
is  treated  by  many  persons  with  peculiar  indulgence 
under  this  very  notion,  as  being  an  excess  of  liberty. 
And  an  excess  of  liberty  it  is  to  the  licentious  them- 
selves :  but  what  is  it  to  those  who  suffer  by  them,  and 
who  do  not  think,  that  amends  is  at  all  made  them  by 
having  it  left  in  their  power  to  retaliate  safely  ?  When 
by  popular  insurrections,  or  defamatory  libels,  or  in  any 
like  way,  the  needy  and  the  turbulent  securely  injure 
quiet  people  in  their  fortune  or  good  name,  so  far  quiet 
people  are  no  more  free  than  if  a  single  tyrant  used  them 
thus.  A  particular  man  maybe  licentious  without  being 
less  free  :  but  a  community  cannot;  since  the  licentious- 
ness of  one  will  unavoidably  break  in  upon  the  liberty 
of  another.  Civil  liberty,  the  liberty  of  a  community,  is 
a  severe  and  a  restrained  thing ;  implies  in  the  notion  of 
it,  authority,  settled  subordinations,  subjection,  and  obe- 
dience ;  and  is  altogether  as  much  hurt  by  too  little  of 
this  kind,  as  by  too  much  of  it.  And  the  love  of  liberty, 
when  it  is  indeed  the  love  of  liberty,  which  carries  us  to 
withstand  tyranny,  will  as  much  carry  us  to  reverence 
authority,  and  support  it ;  for  this  most  obvious  reason, 
that  one  is  as  necessary  to  the  very  being  of  liberty,  as 
the  other  is  destructive  of  it.  And  therefore  the  love  o£ 
liberty,  which  does  not  produce  this  effect ;  the  love  ol 
liberty,  which  is  not  a  real  principle  of  dutiful  behaviour 
towards  authority  ;  is  as  hypocritical,  as  the  religion 
which  is  not  productive  of  a  good  life.  Licentiousness 
is,  in  truth,  such  an  excess  of  liberty  as  is  of  the  same 
nature  with  tyranny.    For  what  is  the  difference  between 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 


221 


them,  but  that  one  is  lawless  power  exercised  under  pre- 
tence of  authority,  or  by  persons  invested  with  it ;  the 
other  lawless  power  exercised  under  pretence  of  liberty, 
or  without  any  pretence  at  all?  A  people  then  must 
always  be  less  free  in  proportion  as  they  are  more  licen- 
tious ;  licentiousness  being  not  only  different  from  liberty, 
but  directly  contrary  to  it;  a  direct  breach  upon  it. 

It  is  moreover  of  a  growing  nature;  and  of  speedy 
growth  too;  and,  with  the  culture  which  it  has  amongst 
us,  needs  no  great  length  of  time  to  get  to  such  a  height 
as  no  legal  government  will  be  able  to  restrain,  or  sub- 
sist under:  which  is  the  condition  the  historian  describes 
in  saying,  they  could  neither  bear  their  vices,  nor  the 
remedies  of  them.*  I  said  legal  government:  for,  in  the 
present  state  of  the  world,  there  is  no  danger  of  our  be- 
coming savages.  Had  licentiousness  finished  its  work, 
and  destroyed  our  constitution,  power  would  not  be 
w^anting,  from  one  quarter  or  another,  sufficient  to  sub- 
due us,  and  keep  us  in  subjection.  But  government,  as 
distinguished  from  mere  power,  free  government,  neces- 
sarily implies  reverence  in  the  subjects  of  it,  for  autho- 
rity, or  power  regulated  by  laws;  and  an  habit  of  submis- 
sion to  the  subordinations  in  civil  life,  throughout  its 
several  ranks  :  nor  is  a  people  capable  of  liberty  without 
somewhat  of  this  kind.  But  it  must  be  observed,  and 
less  surely  cannot  be  observed,  this  reverence  and  sub- 
mission will  at  best  be  very  precarious,  if  it  be  not 
founded  upon  a  sense  of  authority  being  God's  ordin- 
ance, and  the  subordinations  in  life  a  providential  ap- 
pointment of  things.  Now  let  it  be  considered,  for  surely 
it  is  not  duly  considered,  what  is  really  the  short  amount 
of  those  representations,  which  persons  of  superior  rank 
give,  and  encourage  to  be  given  of  each  other,  and  which 
are  spread  over  the  nation?  Is  it  not  somewhat,  in 
itself,  and  in  its  circumstances,  beyond  any  thin^  in  any 
other  age  or  country  of  the  world  ?  And  what  eftcct 
must  the  continuance  of  this  extravagant  licentiousness 
in  them,  not  to  mention  other  kinds  of  it,  have  upon  the 
people  in  those  respects  just  mentioned?  Must  it  not 
necessarily  tend  to  wear  out  of  their  minds  all  reverence 

*  Nec  vitia  nostra,  nec  remedia  pati  posstunus. — Liv.  lib.  I.  c.  1. 


222 


A  SERMON  PREACHED  BEFORE 


for  authority,  and  respect  for  superiors  of  every  sort ; 
and,  joined  with  the  irrehgious  principles  we  find  so  in- 
dustriously propagated,  to  introduce  a  total  profligateness 
amongst  them ;  since,  let  them  be  as  bad  as  they  will, 
it  is  scarce  possible  they  can  be  so  bad  as  they  are  in- 
structed they  may  be,  or  worse  than  they  are  told  their 
superiors  are?  And  is  there  no  danger  that  all  this,  to 
mention  only  one  supposable  course  of  it,  may  raise 
somewhat  like  that  levelling  spirit,  upon  atheistical  prin- 
ciples, which,  in  the  last  age,  prevailed  upon  enthusiastic 
ones?  not  to  speak  of  the  possibility,  that  different  sorts 
of  people  may  unite  in  it  upon  these  contrary  principles. 
And  may  not  this  spirit,  together  with  a  concurrence  of 
ill  humours,  and  of  persons  who  hope  to  find  their  ac- 
count in  confusion,  soon  prevail  to  such  a  degree,  as  will 
require  more  of  the  good  old  principles  of  loyalty  and  of 
religion  to  withstand  it,  than  appear  to  be  left  amongst  us? 

What  legal  remedies  can  be  provided  against  these 
mischiefs,  or  whether  any  at  all,  are  considerations  the 
farthest  from  my  thoughts.  No  government  can  be 
free,  which  is  not  administered  by  general  stated  laws: 
and  these  cannot  comprehend  every  case,  which  wants 
to  be  provided  against:  nor  can  new  ones  be  made  for 
every  particular  case,  as  it  arises:  and  more  particular 
laws,  as  well  as  more  general  ones,  admit  of  infinite 
evasions:  and  legal  government  forbids  any  but  legal 
methods  of  redress;  which  cannot  but  be  liable  to  the 
same  sort  of  imperfections:  besides  the  additional  one 
of  delay;  and  whilst  redress  is  delayed,  however  un- 
avoidably, wrong  subsists.  Then  there  are  very  bad 
things,  which  human  authority  can  scarce  provide 
against  at  all,  but  by  methods  dangerous  to  liberty;  nor 
fully,  but  by  such  as  would  be  fatal  to  it.  These  things 
show,  that  liberty,  in  the  very  nature  of  it,  absolutely 
requires,  and  even  supposes,  that  people  be  able  to 
govern  themselves  in  those  respects  in  which  they  are 
free;  otherwise  their  wickedness  will  be  in  proportion 
to  their  liberty,  and  this  greatest  of  blessings  will  become 
a  curse. 

III.  These  things  show  likewise,  that  there  is  but 
one  adequate  remedy  to  tlie  forementioiied  evils,  even 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 


223 


that  which  the  apostle  prescribes  in  the  last  words  of 
the  text,  to  consider  ourselves  as  the  servants  of  God, 
who  enjoins  dutiful  submission  to  civil  authority,  as  his 
ordinance;  and  to  whom  we  are  accountable  for  the  use 
we  make  of  the  liberty  which  we  enjoy  under  it.  Since 
men  cannot  live  out  of  society,  nor  in  it  without  govern- 
ment, government  is  plainly  a  divine  appointment;  and 
consequently  submission  to  it,  a  most  evident  duty  of 
the  law  of  nature.  And  we  all  know  in  how  forcible  a 
manner  it  is  put  upon  our  consciences  in  Scripture. 
Nor  can  this  obligation  be  denied  formally  upon  any 
principles,  but  such  as  subvert  all  other  obligations. 
Yet  many  amongst  us  seem  not  to  consider  it  as  any 
obligation  at  all.  This  doubtless  is,  in  a  great  measure, 
owing  to  dissoluteness  and  corruption  of  manners:  but 
I  think  it  is  partly  owing  to  their  having  reduced  it  to 
nothing  in  theory.  Whereas  this  obligation  ought  to  be 
put  upon  the  same  foot  with  all  other  general  ones, 
which  are  not  absolute  and  without  exception :  and  our 
submission  is  due  in  all  cases  but  those,  which  Ave  really 
discern  to  be  exceptions  to  the  general  rule.  And  they 
who  are  perpetually  displaying  the  exceptions,  though 
they  do  not  indeed  contradict  the  meaning  of  any  parti- 
cular texts  of  Scripture,  which  surely  intended  to  make 
no  alteration  in  men's  civil  rights;  yet  they  go  against 
the  general  tenor  of  Scripture.  For  the  Scripture, 
throughout  the  whole  of  it,  commands  submission; 
supposing  men  apt  enough  of  themselves  to  make  the 
exceptions,  and  not  to  need  being  continually  reminded 
of  them.  Now  if  we  are  really  under  any  obHgations  of 
duty  at  all  to  magistrates,  honour  and  respect,  in  our 
behaviour  towards  them,  must  doubtless  be  their  due. 
And  they  who  refuse  to  pay  them  this  small  and  easy 
regard,  who  despise  dominion,  and  speak  evil  of  diynilies* 
should  seriously  ask  themselves,  what  restrains  them 
from  any  other  instance  whatever  of  undutifulness? 
And  if  it  be  principle,  why  not  from  this?  Indeed  free 
government  supposes,  that  the  conduct  of  affairs  may  be 
inquired  into,  and  spoken  of  with  freedom.  Yet  surely 
this  should  be  done  with  decency,  for  the  sake  of  liberty 


224 


A  SERMON  PREACHED 


itself ;  for  its  honour  and  its  security.  But  be  it  done 
as  it  will,  it  is  a  very  different  thing  from  libelling,  and 
endeavouring  to  vilify  the  persons  of  such  as  are  in 
authority.  It  will  be  hard  to  find  an  instance,  in  which 
a  serious  man  could  calmly  satisfy  himself  in  doing  this 
It  is  in  no  case  necessary,  and  in  every  case  of  very 
pernicious  tendency.  But  the  immorality  of  it  increases 
in  proportion  to  the  integrity  and  superior  rank  of  the 
persons  thus  treated.  It  is  therefore  in  the  highest 
degree  immoral,  when  it  extends  to  the  supreme  autho- 
rity in  the  person  of  a  prince,  from  whom  our  liberties 
are  in  no  imaginable  dafiger,  whatever  they  may  be 
from  ourselves ;  and  whose  mild  and  strictly  legal 
government  could  not  but  make  any  virtuous  people 
happy. 

A  free  government,  which  the  good  providence  of 
God  has  preserved  to  us  through  innumerable  dangers, 
is  an  invaluable  blessing.  And  our  ingratitude  to  him 
in  abusing  of  it  n^ust  be  great  in  proportion  to  the  great- 
ness of  the  blessing,  and  the  providential  deliverances 
by  which  it  has  been  preserved  to  us.  Yet  the  crime  of 
abusing  this  blessing  receives  further  aggravation  from 
hence,  that  such  abuse  always  is  to  the  reproach,  and 
tends  to  the  ruin  of  it.  The  abuse  of  liberty  has  directly 
overturned  many  free  governments,  as  well  as  our  own, 
on  the  popular  side;  and  has,  in  various  ways,  contributed 
to  the  ruin  of  many,  which  have  been  overturned  on  the 
side  of  authority.  Heavy  therefore  must  be  their  guilt, 
who  shall  be  found  to  have  given  such  advantages  against 
it,  as  well  as  theirs  who  have  taken  them. 

Lastly,  The  consideration,  that  we  are  the  servants  of 
God,  reminds  us,  that  we  are  accountable  to  him  for  our 
behaviour  in  those  respects,  in  which  it  is  out  of  the 
reach  of  all  human  authority;  and  is  the  strongest 
enforcement  of  sincerity,  as  all  things  are  naked  and  open 
unto  the  eyes  of  him  with  lohom  we  have  to  doJ^  Artificial 
behaviour  might  perhaps  avail  much  towards  quieting 
our  consciences,  and  making  our  part  good  in  the  short 
competitions  of  this  world:  but  what  will  it  avail  us 
considered  as  under  the  government  of  God?  Under 

*  Heb.  iv.  13. 


AT  CHRIST-CHURCH,  LONDON. 


225 


his  government,  there  is  no  darkness^  nor  shadow  of  death, 
ichere  the  workers  of  iniquity  may  hide  themselves*  He 
has  indeed  instituted  civil  government  over  the  face  of 
the  earth,  for  the  pumshment  of  evil-doers,  and  for  the 
praise,  the  apostle  does  not  say  the  rewarding,  but,  for 
tJie  praise  of  them  that  do  well.f  Yet  as  the  worst  answer 
these  ends  in  some  measure,  the  best  can  do  it  very 
imperfectly.  Civil  government  can  by  no  means  take 
cognizance  of  et^ery  work,  which  is  good  or  evil;  many 
things  are  done  in  secret;  the  authors  unknown  to  it, 
and  often  the  things  themselves:  then  it  cannot  so  much 
consider  actions,  under  the  view  of  their  being  morally 
good,  or  evil,  as  under  the  view  of  their  being  mischievous, 
or  beneficial  to  society:  nor  can  it  in  any  wise  execute 
judgment  in  rewarding  what  is  good,  as  it  can,  and  ought, 
and  does,  in  punishing  what  is  evil.  But  God  shall  bring 
every  work  into  judgment,  with  every  secret  thing,  whether 
it  be  good,  or  whether  it  be  evil.t  , 


SERMON  IV. 

PREACHED  IN  THE  PARISH  CHURCH  OF  CHRIST-CHURCH,  LONDON,  ON 
THURSDAY,  MAY  D,  1743,  BEING  THE  TIME  OF  THE  YEARLY  MEETING 
OF  THE  CHILDREN  EDUCATED  IN  THE  CHARITY-SCHOOLS  IN  AND  ABOUT 
THE  CITIES  OF  LONDON  AND  WESTMINSTER. 

Train  up  a  child  in  the  way  he  should  go:  and  when  he  is  old,  he 
will  not  depart  from  it. — Prov.  xxii.  6. 

Human  creatures,  from  the  constitution  of  their  nature 
and  the  circumstances  in  which  they  are  placed,  cannot 
but  acquire  habits  during  their  childhood,  by  the  impres- 
sions which  are  given  them,  and  their  own  customary 
actions.  And  long  before  they  arrive  at  mature  age, 
these  habits  form  a  general  settled  character.  And  the 
observation  of  the  text,  that  the  most  early  habits  are 
usually  the  most  lasting,  is  likewise  every  one's  observa- 
tion. Now  wlienever  children  are  left  to  themselves, 
and  to  the  guides  and  companions  which  they  choose,  or 
by  hazard  light  upon,  we  find  by  experience,  that  the  first 

♦  Job  xxxiv.  22.  f  1  Pet.  u.  14.  t  Ecde«.  xU.  14. 

P 


226  A  SERMON  PREACHED 

impressions  they  take,  and  course  of  action  they  get  inta, 
are  very  bad ;  and  so  consequently  must  be  their  habits, 
and  character,  and  future  behaviour.  Thus  if  they  are 
not  trained  up  in  the  way  they  should  go,  they  will 
certainly  be  trained  up  in  the  way  they  should  not  go; 
and  in  all  probability  will  persevere  in  it,  and  become 
miserable  themselves,  and  mischievous  to  society:  which, 
in  event,  is  worse,  upon  account  of  both,  than  if  they 
had  been  exposed  to  perish  in  their  infancy.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  ingenuous  docility  of  children  before 
they  have  been  deceived,  their  distrust  of  themselves, 
and  natural  deference  to  grown  people,  whom  they  find 
here  settled  in  a  world  where  they  themselves  are 
strangers ;  and  to  whom  they  have  recourse  for  advice,  as 
readily  as  for  protection ;  which  deference  is  still  greater 
towards  those  who  are  placed  over  them:  these  things 
give  the  justest  grounds  to  expect  that  they  may  receive 
such  impressions,  and  be  influenced  to  such  a  course  of 
behaviour,  as  will  produce  lasting  good  habits;  and, 
together  with  the  dangers  before  mentioned,  are  as  truly 
a  natural  demand  upon  us  to  train  them  up  in  the  way 
they  should  go,  as  their  bodily  wants  are  a  demand  to 
provide  them  bodily  nourishment.  Brute  creatures  are 
appointed  to  do  no  more  than  this  last  for  their  offspring, 
nature  forming  them  by  instincts  to  the  particular 
manner  of  life  appointed  them;  from  which  they  never 
deviate.  But  this  is  so  far  from  being  the  case  of  men, 
that,  on  the  contrary,  considering  communities  collec- 
tively, every  successive  generation  is  left,  in  the  ordinary 
course  of  Providence,  to  be  formed  by  the  preceding 
one;  and  becomes  good  or  bad,  though  not  without  its 
own  merit  or  demerit,  as  this  trust  is  discharged  or 
violated,  chiefly  in  the  management  of  youth. 

We  ought,  doubtless,  to  instruct  and  admonish  grown 
persons;  to  restrain  them  from  what  is  evil,  and 
encourage  them  in  what  is  good,  as  we  are  able:  but 
this  care  of  youth,  abstracted  from  all  consideration  of 
the  parental  aff'ection,  I  say,  this  care  of  youth,  which  is 
the  general  notion  of  education,  becomes  a  distinct 
subject,  and  a  distinct  duty,  from  the  particular  danger 
of  their  ruin,  if  left  to  themselves,  and  the  particular 


AT  CHRIST-CHURCH,  LONDON. 


227 


reason  we  have  to  expect  they  vvill  do  well,  if  due  care 
be  taken  of  them.  And  from  hence  it  follows,  that 
children  have  as  much  right  to  some  proper  education, 
as. to  have  their  lives  preserved;  and  that  when  this  is 
not  given  them  by  their  parents,  the  care  of  it  devolves 
upon  all  persons,  it  becomes  the  duty  of  all,  who  are 
capable  of  contributing  to  it,  and  whose  help  is  wanted. 

These  trite,  but  most  important  things,  implied  indeed 
in  the  text,  being  thus  premised  as  briefly  as  I  could 
express  them,  I  proceed  to  consider  distinctl}^  the 
general  manner  in  which  the  duty  of  education  is  there 
laid  before- us :  which  will  further  show  its  extent,  and 
further  obviate  the  idle  objections  which  have  been 
made  against  it.  And  ail  this  together  will  naturally 
lead  us  to  consider  the  occasion  and  necessity  of  schools 
for  the  education  of  poor  children,  and  in  what  light  the 
objections  against  them  are  to  be  regarded. 

Solomon  might  probably  intend  the  text  for  a  parti- 
cular admonition  to  educate  children  in  a  manner 
suitable  to  their  respective  ranks,  and  future  employ- 
ments: but  certainly  he  intended  it  for  a  general 
admonition  to  educate  them  in  virtue  and  religion,  and 
good  conduct  of  themselves  in  their  temporal  concerns. 
And  all  this  to2:ether,  in  which  thev  are  to  be  educated, 
he  calls  tke  way  they  should  go,  i.  e.  he  mentions  it  not 
as  a  matter  of  speculation,  but  of  practice.  And  con- 
formably to  this  description  of  the  things  in  which 
children  are  to  be  educated,  he  describes  education 
itself:  for  he  calls  it  training  them  up;  which  is  a  very 
different  thing  from  merely  teaching  them  some  truths, 
necessary  to  be  known  or  believed.  It  is  endeavouring 
to  form  such  truths  into  practical  principles  in  the  mind, 
so  as  to  render  them  of  habitual  good  influence  upon  tlic 
temper  and  actions,  in  all  the  various  occurrences  of 
life.  And  this  is  not  done  by  bare  instruction;  but  by 
that,  together  with  admonishing  them  frequently  as 
occasion  offers;  restraining  them  from  what  is  evil,  and 
exercising  them  in  what  is  good.  Thus  the  precept  of 
the  apostle  concerning  this  matter  is,  to  bring  up  children 
in  tihe  nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord;*  as  it  were 

*  E4)h.  vl.  4, 


228 


A  SERMON  PREACHED 


by  way  of  distinction  from  acquainting  them  merely  with 
the  principles  of  Christianity,  as  you  would  with  any 
common  theory.  Though  education  were  nothing  more 
than  informing  children  of  some  truths  of  importance  to 
them,  relating  to  religion  and  common  life,  yet  there 
would  be  great  reason  for  it,  notwithstanding  the  frivolous 
objections  concerning  the  danger  of  giving  them  preju- 
dices. But  when  we  consider  that  such  information 
itself  is  really  the  least  part  of  it;  and  that  it  consists  in 
endeavouring  to  put  them  into  right  dispositions  of  mind, 
and  right  habits  of  living,  in  every  relation  and  every 
capacity;  this  consideration  shows  such  objections  to  be 
quite  absurd:  since  it  shows  them  to  be  objections 
against  doing  a  thing  of  the  utmost  importance  at  the 
natural  opportunity  of  our  doing  it,  childhood  and  youth; 
and  which  is  indeed,  properly  speaking,  our  only  one. 
For  when  they  are  grown  up  to  maturity,  they  are  out 
of  our  hands,  and  must  be  left  to  themselves.  The 
natural  authority  on  one  side  ceases,  and  the  deference 
on  the  other.  God  forbid,  that  it  should  be  impossible 
for  men  to  recollect  themselves,  and  reform  at  an 
advanced  age :  but  it  is  in  no  sort  in  the  power  of  others 
to  gain  upon  them;  to  turn  them  away  from  what  is 
wrong,  and  enforce  upon  them  what  is  right,  at  that 
season  of  their  lives,  in  the  manner  we  might  have  done 
in  their  childhood. 

Doubtless  religion  requires  instruction,  for  it  is  founded 
in  knowledge  and  belief  of  some  truths.  And  so  is 
common  prudence  in  the  management  of  our  temporal 
affairs.  Yet  neither  of  them  consist  in  the  knowledge 
or  belief  even  of  these  fundamental  truths ;  but  in  our 
being  brought  by  such  knowledge  or  belief  to  a  corre- 
spondent temper  and  behaviour.  Religion,  as  it  stood 
under  the  Old  Testament,  is  perpetually  styled  the  fear 
of  God:  under  the  New,  faith  in  Christ.  But  as  that 
fear  of  God  does  not  signify  literally  being  afraid  of  him, 
but  having  a  good  heart,  and  leading  a  good  life,  in 
consequence  of  such  fear;  so  this  faith  in  Christ  does 
not  signify  literally  believing  in  him  in  the  sense  that 
word  is  used  in  common  language,  but  becoming  his 
real  disciples,  in  consequence  of  such  belief. 


AT  CHRIST-CHURCH,  LONDON. 


229 


Our  religion  being  then  thus  practical,  consisting  in  a 
frame  of  mind  and  course  of  behaviour,  suitable  to  the 
dispensation  we  are  under,  and  which  will  bring  us  to  our 
final  good;  children  ought,  by  education,  to  be  habituated 
to  this  course  of  behaviour,  and  formed  into  this  frame 
of  mind.  And  it  must  ever  be  remembered,  that  if  no 
care  be  taken  to  do  it,  they  will  grow  up  in  a  direct 
contrary  behaviour,  and  be  hardened  in  direct  contrary 
habits.  They  will  more  and  more  corrupt  themselves, 
and  spoil  their  proper  nature.  They  will  alienate  them- 
selves further  from  God;  and  not  only  neglect,  but 
trampk  under  foot,  the  means  which  he  in  his  infinite 
mercy  has  appointed  for  our  recovery.  And  upon  the 
whole,  the  same  reasons,  which  show,  that  they  ought  to 
be  instructed  and  exercised  in  what  will  render  them  useful 
to  society,  secure  them  from  the  present  evils  they  are  in 
danger  of  incurring,  and  procure  them  that  satisfaction 
which  lies  within  the  reach  of  human  prudence;  show 
likewise,  that  they  ought  to  be  instructed  and  exercised 
in  what  is  suitable  to  the  highest  relations  in  which  we 
stand,  and  the  most  important  capacity  in  which  we  can 
be  considered;  in  that  temper  of  mind  and  course  of 
behaviour,  which  will  secure  them  from  their  chief  evil, 
and  bring  them  to  their  chief  good.  Besides  that  religion 
is  the  principal  security  of  men's  acting  a  right  part  in 
society,  and  even  in  respect  to  their  own  temporal 
happiness,  all  things  duly  considered. 

It  is  true  indeed,  children  may  be  taught  superstition, 
under  the  notion  of  religion;  and  it  is  true  also,  that, 
under  the  notion  of  prudence,  they  may  be  educated  in 
great  mistakes  as  to  the  nature  of  real  interest  and  good, 
respecting  the  present  world.  But  this  is  no  more  a 
reason  for  not  educating  them  according  to  the  best  of 
our  judgment,  than  our  knowing  how  very  liable  we  all 
are  to  err  in  other  cases,  is  a  reason  why  we  should  not, 
in  those  other  cases,  act  according  to  the  best  of  our 
judgment. 

It  being  then  of  the  greatest  importance,  that  children 
should  be  thus  educated,  the  providing  schools  to  give 
this  education  to  such  of  them  as  would  not  otherwise 
have  it,  has  the  appearance,  at  least  at  first  sight,  ot 


230  A  SERMON  PREACHED 

deserving  a  place  amongst  the  very  best  of  good  works. 
One  would  be  backward,  methinks,  in  entertaining 
prejudices  against  it;  and  very  forward,  if  one  had  any, 
to  lay  them  aside,  upon  being  shown  that  they  were 
groundless.  Let  us  consider  the  whole  state  of  the  case. 
For  though  this  will  lead  us  some  little  compass,  yet  I 
choose  to  do  it;  and  the  rather,  because  there  are  people 
who  speak  of  charity-schools  as  a  new  invented  scheme, 
and  therefore  to  be  looked  upon  with  I  know  not  what 
suspicion.  Whereas  it  will  appear,  that  the  scheme  of 
charity-schools,  even  the  part  of  it  which  is  most  looked 
upon  in  this  light,  teaching  the  children  letters  and 
accounts,  is  no  otherwise  new,  than  as  the  occasion  for  it 
is  so. 

Formerly  not  only  the  education  of  poor  children,  but 
also  their  maintenance,  with  that  of  the  other  poor,  were 
left  to  voluntary  charities.  But  great  changes  of  different 
sorts  happening  over  the  nation,  and  charity  becoming 
more  cold,  or  the  poor  more  numerous,  it  was  found 
necessary  to  make  some  legal  provision  for  them.  <,  This 
might,  much  more  properly  than  charity-schools,  be  called 
a  new  scheme.  For,  without  question,  the  education  of  poor 
children  was  all  along  taken  care  of  by  voluntary  charities, 
more  or  less :  but  obliging  us  by  law  to  maintain  the  poor^ 
was  new  in  the  reign  of  queen  Elizabeth.  Yet,  because 
a  change  of  circumstances  made  it  necessary,  its  novelty 
was  no  reason  against  it.  Now  in  that  legal  provision 
for  the  maintenance  of  the  poor,  poor  children  must 
doubtless  have  had  a  part  in  common  with  grown  people. 
But  this  could  never  be  sufficient  for  children,  because 
their  case  always  requires  more  than  mere  maintenance  ; 
it  requires  that  they  be  educated  in  some  proper  manner. 
Wherever  there  are  poor  who  want  to  be  maintained  by 
charity,  there  must  be  poor  children  who,  besides  this, 
want  to  be  educated  by  charity.  And  whenever 
there  began  to  be  need  of  legal  provision  for  the 
maintenance  of  the  poor,  there  must  immediately  have 
been  need  also  of  some  particular  legal  provision 
in  behalf  of  poor  children  for  their  education;  this 
not  being  included  in  what  we  call  their  maintenance. 
And  many  whose  parents  are  able  to  maintain  them, 


AT  CHRIST-CHURCH,  LONDON.  231 

and  do  so,  may  yet  be  utterly  neglected  as  to  their 
education.  But  possibly  it  might  not  at  first  be  attended 
to,  that  the  case  of  poor  children  was  thus  a  case  by 
itself,  which  required  its  own  particular  provision.  Cer- 
tainly it  would  not  appear,  to  the  generality,  so  urgent  a 
one  as  the  want  of  food  and  raiment.  And  it  might  be 
necessary,  that  a  burden  so  entirely  new  as  that  of  a 
poor-tax  was  at  the  time  I  am  speaking  of,  should  be  as 
light  as  possible.  Thus  the  legal  provision  for  the  poor 
was  first  settled;  without  any  particular  consideration  of 
that  additional  want  in  the  case  of  children';  as  it  still 
remains,  with  scarce  any  alteration  in  this  respect.  In 
the  mean  time,  as  the  poor  still  increased,  or  charity  still 
lessened,  many  poor  children  were  left  exposed,  not  to 
perish  for  want  of  food,  but  to  grow  up  in  society,  and 
learn  every  thing  that  is  evil  and  nothing  that  is  good  in 
it;  and  when  they  were  grown  up,  greatly  at  a  loss  in 
what  honest  way  to  provide  for  themselves,  if  they 
could  be  supposed  inclined  to  it.  And  larger  numbers, 
whose  case  was  not  so  bad  as  this,  yet  were  very  far 
from  having  due  care  taken  of  their  education.  And 
the  evil  went  on  increasing,  till  it  was  grown  to  such  a 
degree,  as  to  be  quite  out  of  the  compass  of  separate 
charities  to  remedy.  At  length  some  excellent  persons, 
who  were  united  in  a  Society*  for  carrying  on  almost 
every  good  work,  took  into  consideration  the  neglected 
case  I  have  been  representing;  and  first  of  all,  as  I 
understand  it,  set  up  charity-schools;  or  however  pro- 
moted them,  as  far  as  their  abilities  and  infiuence  could 
extend.  Their  design  was  not  in  any  sort  to  remove 
poor  children  out  of  the  rank  in  which  they  were  born, 
but,  keeping  them  in  it,  to  give  them  the  assistance 
which  their  circumstances  plainly  called  for;  by  educating 
them  in  the  principles  of  religion,  as  well  as  civil  life; 
and  likewise  making  some  sort  of  provision  for  tlioir 
maintenance:  under  which  last  I  include  clothing  them, 
giving  them  such  learning,  if  it  is  to  be  called  by  that 
name,  as  may  qualify  them  for  some  common  emj)loy- 
ment,  and  placing  them  out  to  it  as  they  grow  up. 
These  two  general  designs  coincide  in  many  respects, 

♦  Society  for  I'romothig  Christian  Knowledge. 


232 


A  SERMON  PREACHED 


and  cannot  be  separated.  For  teaching  the  children  to 
read,  though  I  have  ranked  it  under  the  latter,  equally 
belongs  to  both:  and  without  some  advantages  of  the 
latter  sort,  poor  people  would  not  send  their  children  to 
our  charity-schools:  nor  could  the  poorest  of  all  be 
admitted  into  any  schools,  without  some  charitable  pro- 
vision of  clothing.  And  care  is  taken,  that  it  be  such 
as  cannot  but  be  a  restraint  upon  the  children.  And  if 
this,  or  any  part  of  their  education,  gives  them  any  little 
vanity,  as  has  been  poorly  objected,  whilst  they  are 
children,  it  is  scarce  possible  but  that  it  will  have  even 
a  quite  contrary  effect  when  they  are  grown  up,  and 
ever  after  remind  them  of  their  rank.  Yet  still  we  find 
it  is  apprehended  that  what  they  here  learn  may  set  them 
above  it. 

But  why  should  people  be  so  extremely  apprehensive 
of  the  danger,  that  poor  persons  will  make  a  perverse 
use  of  every  the  least  advantage,  even  the  being  able  to 
read,  whilst  they  do  not  appear  at  all  apprehensive  of 
the  like  danger  for  themselves  or  their  own  children,  in 
respect  of  riches  or  power,  how  much  soever;  though 
the  danger  of  perverting  these  advantages  is  surely 
as  great,  and  the  perversion  itself  of  much  greater  and 
worse  consequence  ?  And  by  what  odd  reverse  of 
things  has  it  happened,  that  such  as  pretend  to  be 
distinguished  for  the  love  of  liberty  should  be  the  only 
persons  who  plead  for  keeping  down  the  poor,  as  one 
may  speak;  for  keeping  them  more  inferior  in  this 
respect,  and  which  must  be  the  consequence,  in  other 
respects,  than  they  were  in  times  past  ?  For  till  within 
a  century  or  two  all  ranks  were  nearly  upon  a  level  as  to 
the  learning  in  question.  The  art  of  printing  appears  to 
have  been  providentially  reserved  till  these  latter  ages, 
and  then  providentially  brought  into  use,  as  what  was  to 
be  instrumental  for  the  future  in  carrying  on  the  ap- 
pointed course  of  things.  The  alterations  which  this  art 
has  even  already  made  in  the  face  of  the  world  are  not 
inconsiderable.  By  means  of  it,  whether  immediately  or 
remotely,  the  methods  of  carrying  on  business  are,  in 
several  respects,  improved,  knowledge  has  been  tncreasedy* 

•  Dan.  TL\l  4. 


AT  CHRIST-CHURCH,  LONDON. 


233 


and  some  sort  of  literature  is  become  general.  And  if 
this  be  a  blessing,  we  ought  to  let  the  poor,  in  their 
degree,  share  it  with  us.  The  present  state  of  things 
and  course  of  providence  plainly  leads  us  to  do  so. 

And  if  we  do  not,  it  is  certain,  how  little  soever  it  be 
attended  to,  that  they  will  be  upon  a  greater  disadvantage, 
on  many  accounts,  especially  in  populous  places,  than 
they  were  in  the  dark  ages:  for  they  will  be  more  igno- 
rant, comparatively  with  the  people  about  them,  than 
they  were  then;  and  the  ordinary  affairs  of  the  world 
are  now  put  in  a  way  which  requires  that  they  should 
have  some  knowledge  of  letters,  which  was  not  the  case 
then.    And  therefore  to  bring  up  the  poor  in  their  former 
ignorance,  now  this  knowledge  is  so  much  more  common 
and  wanted,  would  be,  not  to  keep  them  in  the  same,  but 
to  put  them  into  a  lower  condition  of  life  than  what  they 
were  in  formerly.    Nor  let  people  of  rank  flatter  them- 
selves, that  ignorance  will  keep  their  inferiors  more 
dutiful  and  in  greater  subjection  to  them:  for  surely 
there  must  be  danger  that  it  will  have  a  contrary  effect 
under  a  free  government  such  as  ours,  and  in  a  dissolute 
age.    Indeed  the  principles  and  manners  of  the  poor,  as 
to  virtue  and  religion,  will  always  be  greatly  influenced, 
as  they  always  have  been,  by  the  example  of  their  supe- 
riors, if  that  would  mend  the  matter.    And  this  influence 
will,  1  suppose,  be  greater,  if  they  are  kept  more  inferior 
than  formerly  in  all  knowledge  and  improvement.  But 
unless  their  superiors  of  the  present  age,  superiors,  I 
mean  of  the  middle,  as  well  as  higher  ranks  in  society, 
are  greater  examples  of  public  spirit,  of  dutiful  submission 
to  authority,  human  and  divine,  of  moderation  in  diver- 
sions, and  proper  care  of  their  famihes  and  domestic 
affairs;  unless,  I  say,  superiors  of  the  present  age  are 
greater  examples  of  decency,  virtue,  and  religion,  than 
those  of  former  times;  for  what  reason  in  the  world  is 
it  desirable  that  their  example  should  have  this  greater 
influence  over  the  poor.^    On  the  contrary,  why  should 
not  the  poor,  by  being  taught  to  read,  be  put  into  a 
capacity  of  making  some  improvement  in  moral  and 
religious  knowledge,  and  confirming  themselves  in  those 
good  principles,  which  will  be  a  great  security  for  their 


234 


A  SERMON  PREACHED 


following  the  example  of  their  superiors  if  it  be  good, 
and  some  sort  of  preservative  against  their  following  it  if 
it  be  bad?  And  serious  persons  will  further  observe 
very  singular  reasons  for  this  amongst  us;  from  the 
discontinuance  of  that  religious  intercourse  between 
pastors  and  people  in  private,  which  remain  in  Protes- 
tant churches  abroad,  as  well  as  in  the  church  of  Rome ; 
and  from  our  small  public  care  and  provision  for  keeping 
up  a  sense  of  religion  in  the  lower  rank,  except  by- 
distributing  religious  books.  For  in  this  way  they  have 
been  assisted;  and  any  well-disposed  person  may  do 
much  good  amongst  them,  and  at  a  very  trifling  expense, 
since  the  worthy  Society  before  mentioned  has  so  greatly 
lessened  the  price  of  such  books.  But  this  pious  charity 
is  an  additional  reason  why  the  poor  should  be  taught 
to  read,  that  they  may  be  in  a  capacity  of  receiving  the 
benefit  of  it.  Vain  indeed  would  be  the  hope,  that  any 
thing  in  this  world  can  be  fully  secured  from  abuse.  For 
as  it  is  the  general  scheme  of  divine  Providence  to  bring 
good  out  of  evil;  so  the  wickedness  of  men  will,  if  it  be 
possible,  bring  evil  out  of  good.  But  upon  the  whole, 
incapacity  and  ignorance  must  be  favourable  to  error  and 
vice;  and  knowledge  and  improvement  contribute,  in 
due  time,  to  the  destruction  of  impiety  as  well  as  super- 
stition, and  to  the  general  prevalence  of  true  religion. 
But  some  of  these  observations  may  perhaps  be  thought 
too  remote  from  the  present  occasion.  It  is  more 
obviously  to  the  purpose  of  it  to  observe,  that  reading, 
writing,  and  accounts,  are  useful,  and,  whatever  cause  it 
is  owing  to,  would  really  now  be  wanted  in  the  very 
lowest  stations:  and  that  the  trustees  of  our  charity- 
schools  are  fully  convinced  of  the  great  fitness  of  joining 
to  instruction  easy  labour,  of  some  sort  or  other,  as  fast 
as  it  is  practicable;  which  they  have  already  been  able 
to  do  in  some  of  them. 

Then  as  to  placing  out  the  poor  children,  as  soon  as 
they  are  arrived  at  a  fit  age  for  it;  this  must  be  approved 
by  every  one,  as  it  is  putting  them  in  a  way  of  industry 
under  domestic  government,  at  a  time  of  life,  in  some 
respects,  more  dangerous  than  even  chiklhood.  And  it 
is  a  known  thing,  that  care  is  taken  to  do  it  in  a  manner 


AT  CHRIST-CHURCH,  LONDON. 


235 


which  does  not  set  tliem  above  their  rank  :  though  it  is 
not  possible  always  to  do  it  exactly  as  one  would  wish. 
Yet,  I  hope  it  may  be  observed  without  offence,  if  any 
of  them  happen  to  be  of  a  very  weakly  constitution,  or 
of  a  very  distinguished  capacity,  there  can  be  no  impro- 
priety in  placing  these  in  employments  adapted  to  their 
particular  cases ;  though  such  as  would  be  very  improper 
for  the  generality. 

But  the  principal  design  of  this  charity  is  to  educate 
poor  children  in  such  a  manner,  as  has  a  tendency  to 
make  them  good,  and  useful,  and  contented,  what- 
ever their  particular  station  be.  The  care  of  this  is 
greatly  neglected  by  the  poor:  nor  truly  is  it  more 
regarded  by  the  rich,  considering  what  might  be  expected 
from  them.  And  if  it  were  as  practicable  to  provide 
charity-schools,  which  should  supply  this  shameful 
neglect  in  the  rich,  as  it  is  to  supply  the  like,  though  more 
excusable,  neglect  in  the  poor,  I  should  think  certainly, 
that  both  ought  to  be  done  for  the  same  reasons.  And 
most  people,  I  hope,  will  think  so  too,  if  they  attend  to 
the  thing  I  am  speaking  of ;  which  is  the  moral  and 
rehgious  part  of  education;  what  is  equally  necessary  for 
all  ranks,  and  grievously  wanting  in  all.  Yet  in  this 
respect  the  poor  must  be  greatly  upon  a  disadvantage, 
from  the  nature  of  the  case;  as  will  appear  to  any  one 
who  will  consider  it. 

For  if  poor  children  are  not  sent  to  school,  several 
years  of  their  chikJhood  of  course  pass  away  in  idleness 
and  loitering.  This  has  a  tendency  to  give  them  perhaps 
a  feeble  listlessness,  perhaps  a  headstrong  protiigateness 
of  mind;  certainly  an  indisposition  to  proper  application 
as  they  grow  up,  and  an  aversion  afterward,  not  only  to 
the  restraints  of  religion,  but  to  those  which  any  par- 
ticular calling,  and  even  the  nature  of  society,  require. 
Whereas  children  kept  to  stated  orders,  and  who  many 
hours  of  the  day  are  in  employment,  are  by  this  means 
habituated  both  to  submit  to  those  who  are  placed  over 
them,  and  to  govern  themselves  ;  and  they  are  also  by 
this  means  prepared  for  industry,  in  any  way  of  life  in 
which  they  may  be  placed.  And  all  this  holds  abstracted 
from  the  consideration  of  tkcir  being  taught  to  read  ; 


233 


A  SERMON  PREACHED 


v'ithout  which,  however,  it  will  be  impracticable  to 
employ  their  time:  not  to  repeat  the  unanswerable  rea- 
sons for  it  before  mentioned.  Now  several  poor  people 
cannot,  others  will  not  be  at  the  expense  of  sending  their 
children  to  school.  And  let  me  add,  that  such  as  can 
and  are  willing,  yet  if  it  be  very  inconvenient  to  them, 
ought  to  be  eased  of  it,  and  the  burden  of  children  made 
as  light  as  may  be  to  their  poor  parents. 

Consider  next  the  manner  in  which  the  children  of  the 
poor,  who  have  vicious  parents,  are  brought  up,  incom- 
[}arison  with  other  children  whose  parents  are  of  the 
same  character.  The  children  of  dissolute  men  of  for- 
tune may  have  the  happiness  of  not  seeing  much  of  their 
parents.  And  this,  even  though  they  are  educated  at 
Iiome,  is  often  the  case,  by  means  of  a  customary  dis- 
tance between  them,  which  cannot  be  kept  amongst  the 
poor.  Nor  is  it  impossible  that  a  rich  man  of  this 
character,  desiring  to  have  his  children  better  than  him- 
self, may  provide  them  such  an  education  as  may  make 
them  so,  without  his  having  any  restraint  or  trouble  in 
the  matter.  And  the  education  which  children  of  better 
rank  must  have,  for  their  improvement  in  the  common 
accomphshments  belonging  to  it,  is  of  course,  as  yet,  for 
the  most  part,  attended  with  some  sort  of  religious  educa- 
tion. But  the  poor,  as  they  cannot  provide  persons  to 
educate  their  children ;  so,  from  the  way  in  which  they 
live  together  in  poor  families,  a  child  must  be  an  eye 
and  ear  witness  of  the  worst  part  of  his  parents'  talk 
and  behaviour.  And  it  cannot  but  be  expected,  that 
his  own  will  be  formed  upon  it.  For  as  example 
in  general  has  very  great  influence  upon  all  persons, 
especially  children,  the  example  of  their  parents  is 
of  authority  with  them,  when  there  is  nothing  to  balance 
it  on  the  other  side.  Now  take  in  the  supposition,  that 
these  parents  are  dissolute,  profligate  people;  then,  over 
and  above  giving  their  children  no  sort  of  good  instruction, 
and  a  very  bad  example,  there  are  more  crimes  than  one 
in  which,  it  may  be  feared,  they  will  directly  instruct  and 
encourage  them;  besides  letting  them  ramble  abroad 
wherever  they  will,  by  which,  of  course,  they  learn  the 
very  same  principles  and  manners  they  do  at  home.  And 


AT  CHRIST-CHURCH,  LONDON.  237 

from  all  these  things  together,  such  poor  children  will 
have  their  characters  formed  to  vice,  by  those  whose 
business  it  is  to  restrain  them  from  it.  They  will  be 
disciplined  and  trained  up  in  it.  This  surely  is  a  case 
which  ought  to  have  some  public  provision  made  for  it. 
If  it  cannot  have  an  adequate  one,  yet  such  a  one  as  it 
can  :  unless  it  be  thought  so  rare  as  not  to  deserve  our 
attention.  But  in  reality,  though  there  should  be  no 
more  parents  of  this  character  amongst  the  poor,  in 
proportion,  than  amongst  the  rich,  the  case  which  I  have 
been  putting  will  be  far  from  being  uncommon.  Now 
notwithstanding  the  danger  to  which  the  children  of  such 
wretched  parents  cannot  but  be  exposed,  fi'om  what  they 
see  at  home;  yet  by  instilling  into  them  the  principles  of 
virtue  and  religion  at  school,  and  placing  them  soon  out 
in  sober  families,  there  is  ground  to  hope  they  may  avoid 
those  ill  courses,  and  escape  that  ruin,  into  which,  without 
this  care,  they  would  almost  certainly  run.  I  need  not 
add  how  much  greater  ground  there  is  to  expect,  that 
those  of  the  children  who  have  religious  parents  will  do 
well.  For  such  parents,  besides  setting  their  children  a 
good  example,  will  likewise  repeat  and  enforce  upon  them 
at  home  the  good  instructions  they  receive  at  school. 

After  all,  we  find  the  world  continues  very  corrupt. 
And  it  would  be  miraculous  indeed,  if  charity-schools 
alone  should  make  it  otherwise:  or  if  they  should 
make  even  all  who  are  brought  up  in  them  proof 
against  its  corruptions.  The  truth  is,  every  method 
that  can  be  made  use  of  to  prevent  or  reform  the  bad 
manners  of  the  age,  will  appear  to  be  of  less  effect,  in 
proportion  to  the  greater  occasion  there  is  for  it;  as 
cultivation,  though  the  most  proper  that  can  be,  will 
produce  less  fruit,  or  of  a  worse  sort,  in  a  bad  climate 
than  in  a  good  one.  And  thus  the  character  of  the 
common  people,  with  whom  these  children  arc  to  live,  in 
the  ordinary  intercourse  of  business  and  company  when 
they  come  out  into  the  world,  may  more  or  less  defeat 
the  good  effects  of  their  education.  And  so  likewise 
may  the  character  of  men  of  rank,  under  whose  influence 
they  are  to  live.  But  whatever  danger  may  be  appre- 
hended from  either  or  both  of  these,  it  can  be  no  reason 


238 


A  SERMON  PREACHED 


why  we  should  not  endeavour,  by  the  hkeliest  methods 
we  can,  to  better  the  world,  or  keep  it  from  growing  worse. 
The  good  tendency  of  the  method  before  us  is  unques- 
tionable. And  I  think  myself  obliged  to  add,  that 
upon  a  comparison  of  parishes  where  charity-schools 
have  been  for  a  considerable  time  established,  with 
neighbouring  ones,  in  like  situations,  which  have  had 
none,  the  good  effects  of  them,  as  I  am  very  credibly 
informed,  are  most  manifest.  Notwithstanding  I  freely 
own,  that  it  is  extremely  difficult  to  make  the  necessary 
comparisons  in  this  case,  and  form  a  judgment  upon 
them.  And  a  multitude  of  circumstances  must  come  in 
to  determine,  from  appearances  only,  concerning  the 
positive  good  which  is  produced  by  this  charity,  and  the 
evil  which  is  prevented  by  it ;  which  last  is  full  as  material 
as  the  former,  and  can  scarce  be  estimated  at  all.  But 
surely  there  can  be  no  doubt  whether  it  be  useful  or  not, 
to  educate  children  in  order,  virtue,  and  religion. 

However,  suppose,  which  is  yet  far  from  being  the  case, 
but  suppose  it  should  seem,  that  this  undertaking  did  not 
answer  the  expense  and  trouble  of  it,  in  the  civil  or 
political  way  of  considering  things.  What  is  this  to 
persons  who  profess  to  be  engaged  in  it,  not  only  upon 
mere  civil  views,  but  upon  moral  and  Christian  ones  ? 
We  are  to  do  our  endeavours  to  promote  virtue  and 
religion  amongst  men,  and  leave  the  success  to  God:  the 
designs  of  his  providence  are  answered  by  these  endea- 
vours, whether  they  will  hear,  or  whether  they  will  forbear; 
t.  e.  whatever  be  the  success  of  them:  and  the  least 
success  in  such  endeavours  is  a  great  and  valuable  effect.* 

From  these  foregoing  observations,  duly  considered, 
it  will  appear  that  the  objections,  which  have  been  made 
against  charity-schools,  are  to  be  regarded  in  the  same 
light  with  those  which  are  made  against  any  other 
necessary  things;  for  instance,  against  providing  for  the 
sick  and  the  aged  poor.  Objections  in  this  latter  case 
could  be  considered  no  otherwise  than  merely  as  warnings 
of  some  inconvenience  which  might  accompany  such 
charity,  and  might,  more  or  less,  be  guarded  against,  the 
charity  itself  being  still  kept  up;  or  as  proposals  for 

•  See  the  Sermon  before  the  Society  for  the  Propagation  of  the  Gospel. 


AT  CHRIST-CHURCH,  LONDON.  239 

placing  it  upon  some  better  foot.  For  though,  amidst 
the  disorder  and  imperfection  in  all  human  things,  these 
objections  were  not  obviated,  they  could  not  however 
possibly  be  understood  as  reasons  for  discontinuing  such 
charity;  because,  thus  understood,  they  would  be  reasons 
for  leaving  necessitous  people  to  perish.  Well-disposed 
persons  therefore  will  take  care,  that  they  be  not  deluded 
with  objections  against  this  before  us,  any  more  than 
against  other  necessary  charities;  as  though  such 
objections  were  reasons  for  suppressing  them,  or  not 
contributing  to  their  support,  unless  we  can  procure  an 
alteration  of  that  to  which  we  object.  There  can  be 
no  possible  reasons  for  leaving  poor  children  in  that 
imminent  danger  of  ruin,  in  which  many  of  these  must 
be  left,  were  it  not  for  this  charity.  Therefore  objections 
against  it  cannot,  from  the  nature  of  the  case,  amount  to 
more  than  reasons  for  endeavouring,  whether  with  or 
without  success,  to  put  it  upon  a  right  and  unexception- 
able foot,  in  the  particular  respects  objected  against. 
And  if  this  be  the  intention  of  the  objectors,  the  managers 
of  it  have  shown  themselves  remarkably  ready  to  second 
them:  for  they  have  shown  even  a  docility  in  receiving 
admonitions  of  any  thing  thought  amiss  in  it,  and  pro- 
posals for  rendering  it  more  complete:  and,  under  the 
influence  of  this  good  spirit,  the  management  of  it  is 
really  improving;  particularly  in  greater  endeavours  to 
introduce  manufactures  into  these  schools;  and  in  more 
particular  care  to  place  the  children  out  to  employments 
in  which  they  are  most  wanted,  and  may  be  mo^^t 
serviceable,  and  which  are  most  suitable  to  their  ranks. 
But  if  there  be  anything  in  the  management  of  them, 
which  some  particular  persons  think  should  be  altered, 
and  others  are  of  a  contrary  opinion,  these  things  must 
be  referred  to  the  judgment  of  tlic  public,  and  the  deter- 
mination of  the  public  complied  with.  Such  compliance 
is  an  essential  principle  of  all  charitable  associations  ; 
for  without  it  they  could  not  subsist  at  all:  and  by 
charitable  associations,  multitudes  are  put  in  mind  to  do 
good,  who  otherwise  would  not  have  thought  of  it;  and 
infinitely  more  good  may  be  done,  than  possibly  can  by 
the  separate  endeavours  of  the  same  number  of  charitable 


240  A  SERMON,  ETC. 

persons.  Now  he  who  refuses  to  help  forward  the  good 
work  before  us,  because  it  is  not  conducted  exactly  in 
his  own  way,  breaks  in  upon  that  general  principle  of 
union,  which  those  who  are  friends  to  the  indigent  and 
distressed  part  of  our  fellow  creatures  will  be  very 
cautious  how  they  do  in  any  case:  but  more  especially 
will  they  beware,  how  they  break  in  upon  that  necessary 
principle  in  a  case  of  so  great  importance  as  is  the 
present.  For  the  public  is  as  much  interested  in  ihe 
education  of  poor  children,  as  in  the  preservation  of  their 
lives. 

This  last,  I  observed,  is  legally  provided  for.  The 
former  is  left  amongst  other  works  of  charity,  neglected 
by  many  who  care  for  none  of  these  things,  and  to  be 
carried  on  by  such  only  as  think  it  their  concern  to  be 
doing  good.  Some  of  you  are  able,  and  in  a  situation, 
to  assist  in  it  in  an  eminent  degree,  by  being  trustees, 
and  overlooking  the  management  of  these  schools;  or  in 
different  ways  countenancing  and  recommending  them; 
as  well  as  by  contributing  to  their  maintenance:  others 
can  assist  only  in  this  latter  way.  In  what  manner  and 
degree  then  it  belongs  to  you,  and  to  me,  and  to  any 
particular  person,  to  help  it  forward,  let  us  all  consider 
seriously,  not  for  one  another,  but  each  of  us  for  himself. 

And  may  the  blessing  of  Almighty  God  accompany  this 
work  of  charity,  which  he  has  put  into  the  hearts  of 
his  servants,  in  behalf  of  these  poor  children;  that 
being  now  trained  up  in  the  vmy  they  should  go,  ichen 
they  are  old  they  may  not  depart  from  it.  May  he,  of  his 
mercy  keep  them  safe  amidst  the  innumerable  dangers 
of  this  bad  world,  through  which  they  are  to  pass, 
and  preserve  them  unto  his  heavenly  kingdom. 


A  SERMON,  ETC. 


241 


SERMON  V. 

PREACHED  BEFORE  THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS,  IN  THE  ABBEY-CHURCH  OF  WEST- 
MINSTER, ON  THURSDAY,  JUNE  11,  1747,  BEING  THE  ANNIVERSARY  OF  HIS 
MAJESTY'S  HAPPY  ACCESSION  TO  THE  THRONE. 

/  exhort,  that,  first  of  all,  supplications,  prayers,  intercessions,  ana 
giving  of  thanks,  he  made  for  all  men  ;  for  kings,  and  for  all  that 
are  in  authority  ;  that  we  may  lead  a  quiet  and  peaceable  life,  in 
all  godliness  and  honesty. — 1  Tim.  ii.  1,  2. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  general  end  which  Pro- 
vidence has  appointed  us  to  aim  at  in  our  passage  through 
the  present  world,  in  more  expressive  words  than  these 
very  plain  ones  of  the  apostle,  to  lead  a  quiet  and  peace- 
able  life,  in  all  godliness  and  honesty :  a  quiet  and  peace- 
able life,  by  way  of  distinction,  surely,  from  eager  tumul- 
tuary pursuits  in  our  private  capacity,  as  well  as  in 
opposition  both  to  our  making  insurrections  in  the  state, 
and  to  our  suffering  oppression  from  it.  To  lead  a  quiet 
and  peaceable  life  in  all  godliness  and  honesty,  is  the  whole 
that  we  have  any  reason  to  be  concerned  for.  To  this 
the  constitution  of  our  nature  carries  us  ;  and  our  external 
condition  is  adapted  to  it. 

Now  in  aid  to  this  general  appointment  of  Providence, 
civil  government  has  been  instituted  over  the  world,  both 
by  the  light  of  nature  and  by  revelation,  to  instruct  men 
in  the  duties  of  fidelity,  justice,  and  regard  to  common 
good,  and  enforce  the  practice  of  these  virtues,  without 
which  there  could  have  been  no  peace  or  quiet  amongst 
mankind;  and  to  preserve,  in  different  ways,  a  sense  of 
religion  as  well  as  virtue,  and  of  God's  authority  over  us. 
For  if  we  could  suppose  men  to  have  lived  out  of  govern- 
ment, they  must  have  run  wild,  and  all  knowledge  of 
divine  things  must  have  been  lost  from  among  them. 
But  by  means  of  their  uniting  under  it,  they  have  been 
preserved  in  some  tolerable  security  from  the  fraud  and 
violence  of  each  other;  order,  a  sense  of  virtue,  and  the 
practice  of  it,  has  been  in  some  measure  kept  up;  and 
religion,  more  or  less  pure,  has  been  all  along  spread  and 
propagated.    So  that  I  make  no  scruple  to  atiirm,  that 


242 


A  SERMON  PREACHED  BEFaRE 


civil  government  has  been,  in  all  ages,  a  standing  publi- 
cation of  the  law  of  nature,  and  an  enforcement  of  it; 
though  never  in  its  perfection,  for  the  most  part  greatly 
corrupted,  and  I  suppose  always  so  in  some  degree. 

And  considering  that  civil  government  is  that  part  of 
God's  government  over  the  world,  which  he  exercises  by 
the  instrumentality  of  men,  wherein  that  which  is  oppres- 
sion, injustice,  cruelty,  as  coming  from  them,  is  under  his 
direction,  necessary  disciphne,  and  just  punishment; 
considering  that  all  power  is  of  God*  all  authority  is 
properly  of  divine  appointment;  men's  very  living  under 
magistracy  might  naturally  have  led  them  to  the  contem- 
plation of  authority  in  its  source  and  origin ;  the  one, 
supreme,  absolute  authority  of  Almighty  God ;  by  which 
he  doeth  according  to  his  will  in  the  army  of  heaven,  and 
among  the  inhabitants  of  the  earth  :\  which  he  now  exerts, 
visibly  and  invisibly,  by  different  instruments,  in  different 
forms  of  administration,  different  methods  of  discipline 
and  punishment;  and  which  he  will  continue  to  exert 
hereafter,  not  only  over  mankind  when  this  mortal  life 
shall  be  ended,  but  throughout  his  universal  kingdom ; 
till,  by  having  rendered  to  all  according  to  their  works, 
he  shall  have  completely  executed  that  just  scheme  of 
government,  which  he  has  already  begun  to  execute  in 
this  world,  by  their  hands,  whom  he  has  appointed,  for 
the  present  punishment  of  evil-doers,  and  for  the  praise  of 
them  that  do  well.t 

And  though  that  perfection  of  justice  cannot  in  any 
sort  take  place  in  this  world,  even  under  the  very  best 
governments ;  yet  under  the  worst,  men  have  been 
enabled  to  lead  much  more  quiet  and  peaceable  lives,  as 
well  as  attend  to  and  keep  up  a  sense  of  religion  much 
more,  than  they  could  possibly  have  done  without  any 
government -at  all.  But  a  free  Christian  government  is 
adapted  to  answer  these  purposes  in  a  higher  degree,  in 
proportion  to  its  just  liberty,  and  the  purity  of  its  reli- 
gious establishment.  And  as  we  enjoy  these  advantages, 
civil  and  religious,  in  a  very  eminent  degree,  under  a 
good  prince,  and  those  he  has  placed  in  authority  over 
us,  we  are  eminently  obliged  to  offer  up  supphcations 

♦  Rom.  xiii,  1.  f  Dan.  iv.  35.  J  1  Pet.  ii.  14. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 


243 


mid  thanksgivings  in  their  behalf;  to  pay  them  all  that 
duty  which  these  prayers  imply;  and  to  leady  as  those 
advantages  enable  and  have  a  tendency  to  dispose  us  to 
do,  quiet  and  peaceuhle  lives  in  all  godliness  and  honesty. 

Of  the  former  of  these  advantages,  our  free  constitu- 
tion of  civil  government,  we  seem  to  have  a  very  high 
value.  And  if  we  would  keep  clear  from  abuses  of  it, 
it  could  not  be  overvalued ;  otherwise  than  as  every  thing 
may,  when  considered  as  respecting  this  world  only.  We 
seem,  1  say,  sufficiently  sensible  of  the  value  of  our  civil 
liberty.  It  is  our  daily  boast,  and  we  are  in  the  highest 
degree  jealous  of  it.  Would  to  God  we  were  somewhat 
more  judicious  in  our  jealousy  of  it,  so  as  to  guard 
against  its  chief  enemy,  one  might  say,  the  only  enemy 
of  it,  we  have  at  present  to  fear;  I  mean  licentiousness; 
which  has  undermined  so  many  free  governments,  and 
without  whose  treacherous  help  no  free  government, 
perhaps,  ever  was  undermined.  This  licentiousness 
indeed  is  net  only  dangerous  to  liberty,  but  it  is  actually 
a  present  infringement  of  it  in  many  instances. — But  I 
must  not  turn  this  good  day  into  a  day  of  reproach. 
Dropping  then  the  encroachments  which  are  made  upon 
our  liberty,  peace,  and  quiet  by  licentiousness,  we  are 
certainly  a  freer  nation  than  any  other  we  have  an  account 
of;  and  as  free,  it  seems,  as  the  very  nature  of  govern- 
ment will  permit.  Every  man  is  equally  under  the 
protection  of  the  laws;  may  have  equal  justice  against 
the  most  rich  and  powerful;  and  securely  enjoy  all  the 
common  blessings  of  life,  with  which  the  industry  of  his 
ancestors,  or  his  own,  has  furnished  him.  In  some  other 
countries  the  upper  part  of  the  world  is  free,  but  in  Great 
Britain  the  whole  body  of  the  people  is  free.  For  we 
have  at  length,  to  the  distinguished  honour  of  those  who 
began,  and  have  more  particularly  laboured  in  it, 
emancipated  oar  northern  provinces  from  most  of 
their  lajal  remains  of  slavery:  for  volmitanj  slavery 
cannot  be  a])()h'shed,  at  least  not  directly,  by  law.  I  take 
leave  to  speak  of  this  long-desired  work  as  done;  since 
it  wants  only  his  concurrence,  who,  as  we  have  found  by 
many  years*  experience,  considers  the  good  of  his  peopie 
as  his  own.    And  I  cannot  but  look  upon  tlicse  acts  of 


244 


A  SERMON  PREACHED  BEFORE 


the  legislature  in  a  further  view,  as  instances  of  regard  to 
posterity;  and  declarations  of  its  readiness  to  put  every 
subject  upon  an  equal  foot  of  security  and  freedom,  if  any 
of  them  are  not  so,  in  any  other  respects,  which  come 
into  its  view;  and  as  a  precedent  and  example  for  doing  it. 

Liberty,  which  is  the  very  genius  of  our  civil  constitu- 
tion, and  runs  through  every  branch  of  it,  extends  its 
influence  to  the  ecclesiastical  part  of  it.  A  religious 
establishment  without  a  toleration  of  such  as  think  they 
cannot  in  conscience  conform  to  it,  is  itself  a  general 
tyranny;  because  it  claims  absolute  authority  over 
conscience;  and  would  soon  beget  particular  kinds  of 
tyranny  of  the  worse  sort,  tyranny  over  the  mind,  and 
various  superstitions ;  after  the  way  should  be  paved  for 
them,  as  it  soon  must,  by  ignorance.  On  the  other  hand, 
a  constitution  of  civil  government  without  any  religious 
establishment  is  a  chimerical  project,  of  which  there  is 
no  example :  and  which,  leaving  the  generality  without 
guide  and  instruction,  must  leave  religion  to  be  sunk  and 
forgotten  amongst  them  ;  and  at  the  same  time  give  full 
scope  to  superstition,  and  the  gloom  of  enthusiasm;  which 
last,  especially,  ought  surely  to  be  diverted  and  checked, 
as  far  as  it  can  be  done  without  force.  Now  a  reasonable 
establishment  provides  instruction  for  the  ignorant, 
withdraws  them,  not  in  the  way  of  force,  but  of  guidance, 
from  running  after  those  kinds  of  conceits.  It  doubtless 
has  a  tendency  likewise  to  keep  up  a  sense  of  real 
religion  and  real  Christianity  in  a  nation ;  and  is  moreover 
necessary  for  the  encouragement  of  learning;  some  parts 
of  which  the  scripture  revelation  absolutely  requires 
should  be  cultivated. 

It  is  to  be  remarked  further,  that  the  value  of  any 
particular  religious  estabhshment  is  not  to  be  estimated 
merely  by  what  it  is  in  itself,  but  also  by  what  it  is  in 
comparison  with  those  of  other  nations ;  a  comparison 
which  will  sufficiently  teach  us  not  to  expect  perfection 
in  human  things.  And  what  is  still  more  material,  the 
value  of  our  own  ought  to  be  very  much  heightened  in 
our  esteem,  by  considering  what  it  is  a  security  from ;  I 
mean  that  great  corruption  of  Christianity,  popery,  which 
IS  ever  hard  at  work  to  bring  us  again  under  its  yoke. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 


245 


Whoever  will  consider,  the  popish  claims,  to  the  disposal 
of  the  whole  earth,  as  of  divine  right,  to  dispense  with 
the  most  sacred  engagements,  the  claims  to  supreme 
absolute  authority  in  religion;  in  short,  the  general  claims 
which  the  canonists  express  by  the  words  plenitude  of 
fower — whoever,  I  say,  will  consider  popery  as  it  is 
professed  at  Rome,  may  see,  that  it  is  manifest,  open 
usurpation  of  all  human  and  divine  authority.  But  even  . 
in  those  Roman  Catholic  countries  where  these  monstrous 
claims  are  not  admitted,  and  the  civil  power  does,  in 
many  respects,  restrain  the  papal;  yet  persecution  is 
professed,  as  it  is  absolutely  enjoined  by  what  is 
acknowledged  to  be  their  highest  authority,  a  gener-al 
council,  so  called,  with  the  pope  at  the  head  of  it;  and  is 
practised  in  all  of  them,  I  think  without  exception,  where 
it  can  be  done  safely.  Thus  they  go  on  to  substitute 
force  instead  of  argument;  and  external  profession  made 
by  force  instead  of  reasonable  conviction.  And  thus  cor- 
ruptions of  the  grossest  sort  have  been  in  vogue,  for  many 
generations,  in  parts  many  of  Christendom;  and  are  so 
still,  even  where  popery  obtains  in  its  least  absurd  form  : 
and  their  antiquity  and  wide  extent  are  insisted  upon  as 
proofs  of  their  truth;  a  kind  of  proof,  which  at  best  can 
be  only  presumptive,  but  which  loses  all  its  little  weight, 
in  proportion  as  the  long  and  large  prevalence  of  such 
corruptions  have  been  obtained  by  force. 

Indeed  it  is  said  in  the  book  of  Job,  that  the  worship 
of  the  sun  and  moon  icas  an  iniquitij  to  be  punished  by  the 
judge*  And  this,  though  it  is  not  so  much  as  a  precept, 
much  less  a  general  one,  is,  I  think,  the  only  passage  of 
scripture  which  can  with  any  colour  be  alleged  in  fiwour 
of  persecution  of  any  sort:  for  what  the  Jews  did,  and 
what  they  were  commanded  to  do,  under  their  tlieocracy, 
are  both  quite  out  of  the  case.  But  whenever  that  book 
was  written,  the  scene  of  it  is  laid  at  a  time  when  idolatry 
was  in  its  infancy,  an  acknowledged  novelty,  essentially 
destructive  of  true  religion,  arising  perhaps  from  mere 
wantonness  of  imagination.  In  these  circumstances, 
this  greatest  of  evils,  which  afterwards  laid  waste  true 
religion  over  the  face  of  the  earth,  might  have  been 

♦  Job  xxxl.  2G,  27.  JS. 


246  A  SERMON  FI?  EACH  ED  BEFORE 

suppressed  at  once,  without  danger  of  mistake  or  abuse. 
And  one  might  go  on  to  add,  that  if  those  to  whom  the 
care  of  this  belonged,  instead  of  serving  themselves  of 
prevaihng  superstitions,  had  in  all  ages  and  countries 
opposed  them  in  their  rise,  and  adhered  faithfully  to  that 
primitive  religion,  which  was  received  of  old,  since  man 
ivas  placed  upon  earth;*  there  could  not  possibly  have 
been  any  such  difference  of  opinion  concerning  the 
Almighty  Governor  of  the  world,  as  could  have  given 
any  pretence  for  tolerating  the  idolatries  which  overspread 
it.  On  the  contrary,  his  universal  monarchy  must  have 
been  universally  recognised,  and  the  general  laws  of  it 
more  ascertained  and  known,  than  the  municipal  ones  of 
any  particular  country  can  be.  In  such  a  state  of  religion, 
as  it  could  not  but  have  been  acknowledged  by  all  man- 
kind, that  immorality  of  every  sort  was  disloyalty  to  him, 
the  high  and  lofty  One  that  inhahiteth  eternity,  whose  name 
is  holy  ;t  so  it  could  not  but  have  been  manifest,  that 
idolatry,  in  those  determinate  instances  of  it,  was  plain 
rebellion  against  him;  and  th^efore  might  have  been 
punished  as  an  offence,  of  the  highest  kind,  against  the 
Supreme  Authority  in  nature.  But  this  is  in  no  sort 
applicable  to  the  present  state  of  religion  in  the  world. 
For  if  the  principle  of  punishing  idolatry  were  now  admit- 
ted amongst  the  several  different  parties  in  religion,  the 
weakest  in  every  place  would  run  a  great  risk  of  being 
convicted  of  it;  or  however  heresy  and  schism  would 
soon  be  found  crimes  of  the  same  nature,  and  equally 
deserving  punishment.  Thus  the  spirit  of  persecution 
would  range  without  any  stop  or  control,  but  what  should 
arise  from  its  want  of  power.  But  our  religious 
establishment  disclaims  all  principles  of  this  kind,  and 
desires  not  to  keep  persons  in  its  communion,  or  gain 
proselytes  to  it,  by  any  other  methods  than  the  Christian 
ones  of  argument  and  conviction. 

These  hints  may  serve  to  remind  us  of  the  value  we 
ought  to  set  upon  our  constitution  in  Church  and  State, 
the  advantages  of  which  are  the  proper  subjects  of  our 
commemoration  on  this  day,  as  his  majesty  has  shown 
himself,  not  in  words,  but  in  the  whole  course  of  his  reign, 

*  Job  XX.  J.  +  Isaiah  IviL  16. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 


247 


the  guardian  and  protector  of  both.  And  the  blessings 
of  his  reign  are  not  only  rendered  more  sensible,  but 
are  really  heightened,  by  its  securing  us  from  that 
pretender  to  his  crown,  whom  we  had  almost  forgot,  till 
our  late  danger  renewed  our  apprehensions;  who,  we 
know,  is  a  professed  enemy  to  our  church;  and  grown 
old  in  resentments  and  maxims  of  government  directly 
contrary  to  our  civil  constitution ;  nay  his  very  claim  is 
founded  in  principles  destructive  of  it.  Our  deliverance 
and  our  security  from  this  danger,  with  all  the  other 
blessings  of  the  king's  government,  are  so  many  reasons, 
for  supplications,  prayers,  intercessions,  and  giving  of 
thanks,  to  which  we  are  exhorted;  as  well  as  for  all 
other  dutiful  behaviour  towards  it;  and  should  also 
remind  us  to  take  care  and  make  due  improvement  of 
those  blessings,  by  leading,  in  the  enjoyment  of  them, 
quiet  and  peaceable  lives,  in  all  godliness  and  honesty. 

The  Jewish  church  offered  sacrifices  even  for  heathen 
princes  to  whom  they  were  in  subjection:  and  the 
primitive  Christian  church,  the  Christian  sacrifices  of 
supphcations  and  prayers  for  the  prosperity  of  the 
emperor  and  the  state ;  though  they  were  falsely  accused 
of  being  enemies  to  both,  because  they  would  not  join 
in  their  idolatries.  In  conformity  to  these  examples  of 
the  church  of  God  in  all  ages,  prayers  for  the  king  and 
those  in  authority  under  him  are  part  of  the  daily  service 
of  our  own.  And  for  the  day  of  his  inauguration  a 
particular  service  is  appointed,  which  we^  are  here 
assembled  in  the  house  of  God  to  celebrate.  This  is 
the  first  duty  we  owe  to  kings,  and  those  who  are  in 
authority  under  them,  that  we  make  prayers  and 
thanksgivings  for  them.  And  in  it  is  comprehended, 
what  yet  may  be  considered  as  another,  paying  them 
honour  and  reverence.  Praying  for  them  is  itself  an 
instance  and  expression  of  this,  as  it  gives  them  a  part 
in  our  highest  solemnities.  It  also  reminds  us  of  that 
further  honour  and  reverence  which  we  are  to  pay  them, 
as  occasions  offer,  throughout  the  whole  course  of  our 
behaviour.  Fear  God,  honour  the  king,*  arc  apostolic 
precepts ;  and  despising  government,  and  speaking  evil  oj 


248 


A  SERMON  PREACHED  BEFORE 


dignities^  apostolic  descriptions  of  such  as  are  reserved 
unto  the  day  of  judgment  to  be  punishedA  And  if  these 
evil  speeches  are  so  highly  criminal,  it  cannot  be  a  thing 
very  innocent  to  nnake  a  custom  of  entertaining  our- 
selves with  them. 

Further,  if  we  are  to  pray,  thai  we  may,  that  it  may 
be  permitted  us,  to  lead  a  quiet  and  peaceable  life,  we 
ought  surely  to  live  so,  when,  by  means  of  a  mild,  equal 
government,  it4is  permitted  us;  and  be  very  thankful, 
first  to  God,  and  then  to  those  whom  he  makes  the 
instruments  of  so  great  good  to  us,  and  pay  them  all 
obedience  and  duty;  though  every  thing  be  not  conducted 
according  to  our  judgment,  nor  every  person  in  employ- 
ment whom  we  may  think  deserving  of  it.  Indeed 
opposition,  in  a  legal,  regular  way,  to  measures  which  a 
person  thinks  wrong,  cannot  but  be  allowed  in  a  free 
government.    It  is  in  itself  just,  and  also  keeps  up  the 
spirit  of  liberty.    But  opposition,  from  indirect  motives, 
to  measures  which  he  sees  to  be  necessary,  is  itself 
immoral:  it  keeps  up  the  spirit  of  licentiousness;  is  the 
greatest  reproach  of  liberty,  and  in  many  ways  most 
dangerous  to  it;  and  has  been  a  principal  means  of 
overturning  free  governments.   It  is  well  too  if  the  legal 
subjection  to  the  government  we  live  under,  which  may 
accompany   such   behaviour,   be  not  the  reverse  of 
Christian  subjection;  subjection  for  wrath  only,  and  not 
for  conscience'  sake.t    And  one  who  wishes  well  to  his 
country  will   beware  how  he  inflames  the  common 
people  against  measures,  whether  right  or  wrong,  which 
they  are  not  judges  of.    For  no  one  can  foresee  how  far 
such  disaffection  will  extend ;  but  every  one  sees,  that  it 
diminishes  the  reverence  which  is  certainly  owing  to 
authority.    Our  due  regards  to  these  things  are  indeed 
instances  of  our  loyalty,  but  they  are  in  reality  as  much 
instances  of  our  patriotism  too.    Happy  the  people  who 
live  under  a  prince,  the  justice  of  whose  government 
renders  them  coincident. 

Lastly,  As  by  the  good  providence  of  God  we  were 
born  under  a  free  government,  and  are  members  of  a  pure 
reformed  church,  both  of  which  he  has  wonderfully 

*  2  Pet.  ii.  10.  t  2  Pet  ii.  9.  J  Rom.  xiii.  5. 


THE  HOUSE  OF  LORDS. 


249 


preserved  through  infinite  dangers;  if  we  do  not  take 
heed  to  Uve  hke  Christians,  nor  to  govern  ourselves  with 
decency  in  those  respects  in  which  we  are  free,  we  shall 
.  be  a  dishonour  to  both.  Both  are  most  justly  to  be  valued : 
but  they  may  be  valued  in  the  wrong  place.  It  is  no  more 
a  recommendation  of  civil,  than  it  is  of  natural  liberty,* 
that  it  must  put  us  into  a  capacity  of  behaving  ill.  Let 
us  then  value  our  civil  constitution,  not  because  it  leaves 
us  the  power  of  acting  as  mere  humour  and  passion  carry 
us,  in  those  respects,  in  which  governments  less  free  lay 
men  under  restraints;  but  for  its  equal  laws,  by  which 
the  great  are  disabled  from  oppressing  those  below  them. 
Let  us  transfer,  each  of  us,  the  equity  of  this  our  civil 
constitution  to  our  whole  personal  character;  and  be  sure 
to  be  as  much  afraid  of  subjection  to  mere  arbitrary  will 
and  pleasure  in  ourselves,  as  to  the  arbitrary  will  of 
others.  For  the  tyranny  of  our  own  lawless  passions  is 
the  nearest  and  most  dangerous  of  all  tyrannies. 

Then  as  to  the  other  part  of  our  constitution;  let  us 
value  it,  not  because  it  leaves  us  at  liberty  to  have  as' 
little  religion  as  we  please,  without  being  accountable  to 
human  judicatories;  but  because  it  affords  us  the  means 
and  assistances  to  worship  God  according  to  his  word; 
because  it  exhibits  to  our  view,  and  enforces  upon  our 
conscience,  genuine  Christianity,  free  from  the  supersti- 
tions with  which  it  is  defiled  in  other  countries.  These 
superstitions  naturally  tend  to  abate  its  force:  our  pro- 
fession of  it  in  its  purity  is  a  particular  call  upon  us  to 
yield  ourselves  up  to  its  full  influence;  to  be  j^ure  in 
heart ;f  to  be  holy  in  all  manner  of  conversation. t  Much 
of  the  form  of  godliness  is  laid  aside  amongst  us:  this  itself 
should  admonish  us  to  attend  more  to  the  power  thereof  § 
We  have  discarded  many  burdensome  ceremonies:  let  u.m 
be  the  more  careful  to  cultivate  inward  religion.  We  have 
thrown  off  a  multitude  of  superstitious  practices,  which 
were  called  good  works:  let  us  the  more  abound  in  all 
moral  virtues,  these  being  unquestionably  such.  Thus 
our  lives  will  justify  and  recommend  the  reformation; 
and  we  shall  adorn  the  doctrine  of  God  our  i^aviour  iji  a!' 
things.  II 

•  Natural  lilxTty  as  opposed  to  necessity,  or  fate 
f  MatU  V.  8.       ^  I  Pet  i.  15.       §  2  Tim.  iii.  5.       ||  Titiu  li.  10. 


250 


A  SERMON  PREACHED  BEFORE  fiirf 


SERMON  VL 

PREACHED  BEFORE  HIS  GRACE  CHARLES  DUKE  OF  RICHMOND,  PRESIDENT, 
AND  THE  GOVERNORS  OF  THE  LONDON  INFIRMARY,  FOR  THE  RELIEF  OF 
SICK  AND  DISEASED  PERSONS,  ESPECIALLY  MANUFACTURERS,  AND  SEAMEN 
IN  MERCHANT-SERVICE,  &c.  AT  THE  PARISH  CHURCH  OF  ST  LAWRENCE - 
JEWRY,  ON  THURSDAY,  MARCH  31,  1748. 

And,  above  all  things,  have  fervent  charity  among  yourselves  :  for 
charity  shall  cover  the  multitude  of  sins. — 1  Pet.  iv.  8. 

As  we  owe  our  being,  and  all  our  faculties,  and  the  very 
opportunities  of  exerting  them,  to  Almighty  God,  and  are 
plainly  his  and  not  our  own,  we  are  admonished,  even 
though  we  should  have  done  all  those  things  which  are 
commanded  us,  to  say,  We  are  unprofitable  servants* 
And  with  much  deeper  humility  must  we  make  this 
acknowledgment,  when  we  consider  in  how  many  things 
we  have  all  offended.\  But  still  the  behaviour  of  such 
creatures  as  men,  highly  criminal  in  some  respects,  may 
yet  in  others  be  such  as  to  render  them  the  proper  objects 
of  mercy,  and,  our  Saviour  does  not  decline  saying, 
thought  worthy  of  it.X  And,  conformably  to  our  natural 
sense  of  things,  the  Scripture  is  very  express,  that  mercy, 
forgiveness,  and,  in  general,  charity  to  our  fellow  creatures, 
has  this  efficacy  in  a  very  high  degree. 

Several  copious  and  remote  reasons  have  been  alleged, 
why  such  pre-eminence  is  given  to  this  grace  or  virtue ; 
some  of  great  importance,  and  none  of  them  perhaps 
without  its  weight.  But  the  proper  one  seems  to  be 
very  short  and  obvious,  that  by  fervent  charity,  with  a 
course  of  beneficence  proceeding  from  it,  a  person  may 
make  amends  for  the  good  he  has  blamably  omitted, 
and  the  injuries  he  has  done,  so  far,  as  that  society 
would  have  no  demand  upon  him  for  such  his  misbe- 
haviour; nor  consequently  would  justice  have  any  in 
behalf  of  society,  whatever  it  might  have  upon  other 
accounts.  Thus  by  fervent  charity  he  may  even  merit 
forgiveness  of  men:  and  this  seems  to  afford  a  very 
singular  reason  why  it  mav  be  graciously  granted  him 

*  Luke  xvii.  10.         f  Jamcs  iii.  2.         %  Luke  xx.  36. 


GOVERNORS  OF  THE  LONDON  INFIRMARY.  251 


by  God;  a  very  singular  reason,  the  Christian  covenant 
of  pardon  always  supposed,  why  divine  justice  should 
permit,  and  divine  mercy  appoint,  that  such  his  charity 
should  be  allowed  to  cover  the  multitude  of  sins. 

And  this  reason  leads  me  to  observe,  what  Scripture 
and  the  whole  nature  of  the  thing  shows,  that  the  charity 
liere  meant  must  be  such  hearty  love  to  our  fellow 
creatures,  as  produceth  a  settled  endeavour  to  promote, 
according  to  the  best  of  our  judgment,  their  real  lasting 
good,  both  present  and  future;  and  not  that  easiness  of 
temper,  which  with  peculiar  propriety  is  expressed  by 
the  word  good-humour,  and  is  a  sort  of  benevolent 
instinct  left  to  itself,  without  the  direction  of  our  judg- 
ment. For  this  kind  of  good-humour  is  so  far  from 
making  the  amends  before  mentioned,  that,  though  it  be 
agreeable  in  conversation,  it  is  often  most  mischievous 
in  every  other  intercourse  of  life;  and  always  puts  men 
out  of  a  capacity  of  doing  the  good  they  might,  if  they 
could  w^ithstand  importunity,  and  the  sight  of  distress, 
when  the  case  requires  they  should  be  withstood;  many 
instances  of  which  cases  daily  occur,  both  in  public  and 
private.  Nor  is  it  to  be  supposed,  that  w^e  can  any  more 
promote  the  lasting  good  of  our  fellow  creatures,  by 
acting  from  mere  kind  inclinations,  without  consideriny 
what  are  the  proper  means  of  promoting  it,  than  that  we 
can  attain  our  own  personal  good,  by  a  thoughtless  pursuit 
of  every  thing  which  pleases  us.  For  the  love  of  our 
neighbour,  as  much  as  self-love,  the  social  affections,  as 
much  as  the  private  ones,  from  their  very  nature,  require 
to  be  under  the  direction  of  our  judgment.  Yet  it  is  to 
be  remembered,  that  it  does  in  no  sort  become  such  a 
creature  as  man  to  harden  himself  against  the  distresses 
of  his  neighbour,  except  where  it  is  really  necessary; 
and  that  even  well-disposed  persons  may  run  into  great 
perplexities,  and  great  mistakes  too,  by  being  over- 
solicitous  in  distinguishing  what  are  the  most  proper 
occasions  for  their  charity,  or  who  the  greatest  objects  of 
it.  And  therefore,  as  on  the  one  side  we  arc  obhged 
to  take  some  care  not  to  squander  that  which,  one  may 
say,  belongs  to  the  poor,  as  we  sliall  do,  unless  we 
competently  satisfy  ourselves  beforehand,  that  what  wo 


252  A  SERMON  PREACHED  BEFORE  THE 

put  to  our  account  of  charity  will  answer  some  good 
purpose  ;  so  on  the  other  side,  when  we  are  competently 
satished  of  this,  in  any  particular  instance  before  us,  we 
ought  by  no  means  to  neglect  such  present  opportunity 
of  doing  good,  under  the  notion  of  making  further 
inquiries:  for  of  these  delays  there  will  be  no  end. 

Haying  thus  briefly  laid  before  you  the  ground  of  that 
singular  efficacy,  which  the  text  ascribes  to  charity  in 
general;  obviated  the  objection  against  its  having  this 
efficacy;  and  distinguished  the  virtue  itself  from  its 
counterfeits;  let  us  now  proceed  to  observe  the  genuine- 
ness and  excellency  of  the  particular  charity,  which  we 
are  here  met  together  to  promote. 

Medicine  and  every  other  relief,  under  the  calamity  of 
bodily  diseases  and  casualtieSy  no  less  than  the  daily  ne- 
cessaries of  life,  are  natural  provisions,  which  God  has 
made  for  our  present  indigent  state;  and  which  he  has 
granted  in  common  to  the  children  of  men,  whether  they 
be  poor  or  rich:  to  the  rich  by  inheritance,  or  acquisition; 
and  by  their  hands  to  the  disabled  poor. 

Nor  can  there  be  any  doubt,  but  that  public  infirmaries 
are  the  most  effectual  means  of  administering  such  relief; 
besides  that  they  are  attended  with  incidental  advantages 
of  great  importance:  both  which  things  have  been  fully 
shown,  and  excellently  enforced,  in  the  annual  sermons 
upon  this  and  the  like  occasions. 

But  indeed  public  infirmaries  are  not  only  the  best, 
they  are  the  only  possible  means  by  which  the  poor, 
especially  in  this  city,  can  be  provided,  in  any  competent 
measure,  with  the  several  kinds  of  assistance,  which 
bodily  diseases  and  casualties  require.  Not  to  mention  poor 
foreigners;  it  is  obvious  no  other  provision  can  be  made 
for  poor  strangers  out  of  the  country,  when  they  are  over- 
taken by  these  calamities,  as  they  often  must  be,  whilst 
they  are  occasionally  attending  their  affairs  in  this  centre 
of  business.  But  even  the  poor  who  are  settled  here  are 
in  a  manner  strangers  to  the  people  amongst  whom  they 
live;  and,  were  it  not  for  this  provision,  must  unavoidably 
be  neglected,  in  the  hurry  and  concourse  around  them, 
and  be  left  unobserved  to  languish  in  sickness,  and  suffer 
extremely,  much  more  than  tiiey  could  in  less  populous 


GOVERNORS  OF  THE  LONDON  INFIRMARY.  253 

places;  where  every  one  is  known  to  every  one;  and 
any  great  distress  presently  becomes  the  common  talk; 
and  where  also  poor  families  are  often  under  the  parti- 
cular protection  of  some  or  other  of  their  rich  neighbours, 
in  a  very  different  way  from  what  is  commonly  the  case 
here.  Observations  of  this  kind  show,  that  there  is  a 
peculiar  occasion,  and  even  a  necessity,  in  such  a  city  as 
this,  for  public  infirmaries,  to  which  easy  admittance 
may  be  had:  and  here  in  ours  no  security  is  required, 
nor  any  sort  of  gratification  allowed;  and  that  they 
ought  to  be  multiplied,  or  enlarged,  proportionably  to 
the  increase  of  our  inhabitants :  for  to  this  the  increase 
of  the  poor  will  always  bear  proportion ;  though  less  in 
ages  of  sobriety  and  dihgence,  and  greater  in  ages  of 
profusion  and  debauchery. 

Now  though  nothing,  to  be  called  an  objection  in  the 
way  of  argument,  can  be  alleged  against  thus  providing 
for  poor  sick  people,  in  the  properest,  indeed  the  only 
way  in  which  they  can  be  provided  for;  yet  persons  of 
too  severe  tempers  can,  even  upon  this  occasion,  talk  in 
a  manner,  which,  contrary  surely  to  their  intention,  has 
a  very  mahgnant  influence  upon  the  spirit  of  charity — 
talk  of  the  ill  deserts  of  the  poor,  the  good  uses  they 
might  make  of  being  let  to  suffer  more  than  they  do, 
under  distresses  which  they  bring  upon  themselves,  or 
however  might,  by  diligence  and  frugality,  provide 
against;  and  the  idle  uses  they  may  make  of  knowing 
beforehand  that  they  shall  be  relieved  in  case  of  those 
distresses.  Indeed  there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  prejudice 
against  them,  arising  from  their  very  state  of  poverty, 
which  ought  greatly  to  be  guarded  against;  a  kind  of 
prejudice,  to  which  perhaps  most  of  us,  upon  some 
occasions,  and  in  some  degree,  may  inattentively  hi) 
liable,  but  which  pride  and  interest  may  easily  work  up 
to  a  settled  hatred  of  them;  the  utter  reverse  of  that 
amiable  part  of  the  character  of  Job,  that  he  was  a  father 
to  the  poor,*  But  it  is  undoubtedly  fit,  that  such  of 
them  as  are  good  and  industrious  should  have  the  salis- 
fuction  of  knowing  beforehand,  tliat  they  shall  bo 
relieved  under  diseases  and  casualties:  and  those,  it  is 

•  Job  Axix.  Hi. 


254  A  SERMON  PREACHED  BEFORE  THE 

most  obvious,  ought  to  be  relieved  preferably  to  otners. 
But  these  others,  who  are  not  of  that  good  character, 
might  possibly  have  the  apprehension  of  those  calamities 
in  so  great  a  degree,  as  would  be  very  mischievous,  and 
of  no  service,  if  they  thought  they  must  be  left  to  perish 
under  them.  And  though  their  idleness  and  extrava- 
gance are  very  inexcusable,  and  ought  by  all  reasonable 
methods  to  be  restrained;  and  they  are  highly  to  be 
blamed  for  not  making  some  provision  against  age  and 
supposable  disasters,  when  it  is  in  their  power ;  yet  it  is 
not  to  be  desired,  that  the  anxieties  of  avarice  should  be 
added  to  the  natural  inconveniences  of  poverty. 

It  is  said,  that  our  common  fault  towards  the  poor  is 
not  harshness,  but  too  great  lenity  and  indulgence.  And 
if  allowing  them  in  debauchery,  idleness,  and  open 
beggary;  in  drunkenness,  profane  cursing  and  swearing 
in  our  streets,  nay  in  our  houses  of  correction;  if  this  be 
lenity,  there  is  doubtless  a  great  deal  too  much  of  it. 
And  such  lenity  towards  the  poor  is  very  consistent  with 
the  most  cruel  neglects  of  them,  in  the  extreme  misery 
to  which  those  vices  reduce  them.  Now  though  this 
last  certainly  is  not  our  general  fault;  yet  it  cannot  be 
said  every  one  is  free  from  it.  For  this  reason,  and 
that  nothing,  which  has  so  much  as  the  shadow  of  an 
objection  against  our  public  charities,  may  be  entirely 
passed  over,  you  will  give  me  leave  to  consider  a  little 
the  supposed  case  above  mentioned,  though  possibly 
some  may  think  it  unnecessary,  that  of  persons  reduced 
to  poverty  and  distress  by  their  own  faults. 

Instances  of  this  there  certainly  are.  But  it  ought  to 
be  very  distinctly  observed,  that  in  judging  which  are 
such,  we  are  liable  to  be  mistaken :  and  more  liable  to  it, 
in  judging  to  what  degree  those  are  faulty,  who  really 
are  so  in  some  degree.  However,  we  should  always 
look  with  mildness  upon  the  behaviour  of  the  poor; 
and  be  sure  not  to  expect  more  from  them  than  can  be 
expected,  in  a  moderate  way  of  considering  things.  We 
should  be  forward  not  only  to  admit  and  encourage  the 
good  deserts  of  such  as  do  well,  but  likewise  as  to  those 
of  them  who  do  not,  be  ever  ready  te  make  due  allowances 
for  their  bad  education,  or,  which  is  the  same,  their 


GOVERNORS  OF  THE  LONDON  INFIRMARY. 


255 


having  had  none;  for  what  may  be  owing  to  the  ill 
example  of  their  superiors,  as  well  as  companions,  and 
for  temptations  of  all  kinds.  And  remember  always, 
that  be  men  s  vices  what  they  will,  they  have  not  forfeited 
their  claim  to  relief  under  necessities,  till  they  have 
forfeited  their  lives  to  justice. 

Our  heavenly  Father  is  kind  to  the  unthankful  and  to  the 
evil;  and  sendeth  his  rain  on  the  just  and  on  the  unjust  * 
And,  in  imitation  of  him,  our  Saviour  expressly  requires, 
that  our  beneficence  be  promiscuous.    But  we  have 
moreover  the  divine  example  for  relieving  those  distresses 
which  are  brought  upon  persons  by  their  own  faults ;  and 
this  is  exactly  the  case  we  are  considering.    Indeed  the 
general  dispensation  of  Christianity  is  an  example  of  this ; 
for  its  general  design  is  to  save  us  from  our  sins,  and  the 
punishments  which  would  have  been  the  just  consequence 
of  them.    But  the  divine  example  in  the  daily  course  of 
nature  is  a  more  obvious   and   sensible  one.  And 
though  the  natural  miseries  which  are  foreseen  to  be 
annexed  to  a  vicious  course  of  life  are  providentially 
intended  to  prevent  it,  in  the  same  manner  as  civil 
penalties  are  intended  to  prevent  civil  crimes;  3'et  those 
miseries,  those  natural  penalties  admit  of  and  receive 
natural  reliefs,  no  less  than  any  other  miseries,  which 
could  not  have  been  foreseen  or  prevented.  Charitable 
providence  then,  thus  manifested  in  the  course  of  nature, 
which  is  the  example  of  our  heavenly  Father,  most 
evidently  leads  us  to  relieve,  not  only  such  distresses  as 
were  unavoidable,  but  also  such  as  people  by  their  own 
faults  have  brought  upon  themselves.    The  case  is,  that 
we  cannot  judge  in  what  degree  it  was  intended  they 
should  suffer,  by  considering  what,  in  the  natural  course 
of  things,  would  be  the  whole  bad  consequences  of  tlicir 
faults,  if  those  consequences  were  not  prevented,  when 
nature  has  provided  means  to  prevent  great  part  of  them. 
We  cannot,  for  instance,  estimate  what  degree  of  present 
f;uffcrings  God  has  annexed  to  drunkenness,  by  consider- 
ing tlie  diseases  which  follow  from  this  vice,  as  they 
would  be  if  they  admitted  of  no  reHefs  or  remedies;  but 
by  considering  the  remaining  misery  of  those  diseases, 

♦  Mntt.  V.  45.  Luke  vi.  :>,-. 


256  A  SERMON  PREACHED  BEFORE  THE 

after  the  application  of  such  remedies  as  nature  has 
provided.  For  as  it  is  certain  on  the  one  side,  that  those 
diseases  are  providential  corrections  of  intemperance,  it 
is  as  certain  on  the  other,  that  the  remedies  are 
providential  mitigations  of  those  corrections;  and  alto- 
gether as  much  providential,  when  administered  by  the 
good  hand  of  charity  in  the  case  of  our  neighbour,  as 
when  administered  by  self-love  in  our  own.  Thus  the 
pain,  and  danger,  and  other  distresses  of  sickness  and 
poverty  remaining,  after  all  the  charitable  relief  which 
can  be  procured;  and  the  many  uneasy  circumstances 
which  cannot  but  accompany  that  relief,  though  distributed 
with  all  supposable  humanity ;  these  are  the  natural  cor- 
rections of  idleness  and  debauchery,  supposing  these 
vices  brought  on  those  miseries.  And  very  severe 
corrections  they  are  :  and  they  ought  not  to  be  increased 
by  withholding  that  relief,  or  by  harshness  in  the  distri- 
bution of  it.  Corrections  of  all  kinds,  even  the  most 
necessary  ones,  may  easily  exceed  their  proper  bound : 
and  when  they  do  so,  they  become  mischievous;  and 
mischievous  in  the  measure  they  exceed  it.  And  the 
natural  corrections  which  we  have  been  speaking  of 
would  be  excessive,  if  the  natural  mitigations  provided 
for  them  were  not  administered. 

Then  persons  who  are  so  scrupulously  apprehensive 
of  every  thing  which  can  possibly,  in  the  most  indirect 
manner,  encourage  idleness  and  vice  (which,  by  the  way, 
any  thing  may  accidentally  do),  ought  to  turn  their 
thoughts  to  the  moral  and  religious  tendency  of 
infirmaries.  The  religious  manner  in  which  they  are 
carried  on  has  itself  a  direct  tendency  to  bring  the 
subject  of  religion  into  the  consideration  of  those  whom 
they  relieve  ;  and,  in  some  degree,  to  recommend  it 
to  their  love  and  practice,  as  it  is  productive  of  so 
much  good  to  them,  as  restored  ease  and  health,  and 
a  capacity  of  resuming  their  several  employments.  It  is 
to  virtue  and  religion,  they  may  mildly  be  admonished, 
that  they  are  indebted  for  their  relief.  And  this, 
amongst  other  admonitions  of  their  spiritual  guide,  and 
the  quiet  and  order  of  their  house,  out  of  the  way  of 
bad  examples,  together  with  a  n  gular  course  of  devotion, 


GOVERNORS  OF  THE  LONDON  INFIRMARY.  257 

which  it  were  greatly  to  be  wished  might  be  daily;  these 
means,  it  is  to  be  hoped,  with  the  common  grace  of 
God,  may  enforce  deeply  upon  their  consciences  those 
serious  considerations,  to  which  a  state  of  affliction 
naturally  renders  the  mind  attentive,  and  that  they  will 
return,  as  from  a  religious  retreat,  to  their  severed 
employments  in  the  world,  with  lasting  impressions  of 
piety  in  their  hearts.  By  such  united  advantages,  which 
these  poor  creatures  can  in  no  sort  have  any  other  way, 
very  remarkable  reformations  have  been  wrought. 
Persons  of  the  strictest  characters  therefore  would  give 
a  more  satisfactory  proof,  not  to  the  world,  but  to  theii' 
own  consciences,  of  their  desire  to  suppress  vice  and 
idleness,  by  setting  themselves  to  cultivate  the  religious 
part  of  the  institution  of  infirmaries,  which,  I  think, 
would  admit  of  great  improvements;  than  by  allowing 
themselves  to  talk  in  a  manner  which  tends  to  discoun- 
tenance either  the  institution  itself,  or  any  particular 
branch  of  it. 

Admitting  then  the  usefulness  and  necessity  of  these 
kinds  of  charity,  which  indeed  cannot  be  denied;  yet 
every  thing  has  its  hounds.  And,  in  the  spirit  of  severity 
before  mentioned,  it  is  imagined,  that  people  are  enough 
disposed^  such,  it  seems,  is  the  present  turn,  to  contribute 
largely  to  them.  And  some,  whether  from  dislike  of  the 
charities  themselves,  or  from  mere  profligateness,  think 
these  formal  recommendations  of  them  at  church  every  year 
might  very  well  he  spared. 

But  surely  it  is  desirable,  that  a  customary  way  should 
be  kept  open  for  removing  prejudices  as  they  may  arise 
against  these  institutions;  for  rectifying  any  misrepre- 
sentations which  may,  at  any  time,  be  made  of  them; 
and  informing  the  public  of  any  new  emergencies;  as 
well  as  for  repeatedly  enforcing  the  known  obligations  of 
charity,  and  the  excellency  of  this  particular  kind  of  it. 
Then  sermqns,  you  know,  amongst  Protestants,  always 
of  course  accompany  these  more  solemn  appearances  in 
the  house  of  God:  nor  will  these  latter  be  kept  up 
without  the  other.  Now  public  devotions  should  evci 
attend  and  consecrate  public  charities.  And  it  would 
be  a  sad  presage  of  the  decay  of  these  charities,  if  ever 


258  A  SERMON  PREACHED  BEFORE  THE 

they  should  cease  to  be  professedly  carried  on  in  the 
fear  of  God,  and  upon  the  principles  of  religion.  It  may 
be  added,  that  real  charitable  persons  will  approve  of 
these  frequent  exhortations  to  charity,  even  though  they 
should  be  conscious  that  they  do  not  themselves  stand 
in  need  of  them,  upon  account  of  such  as  do.  And  such 
can  possibly  have  no  right  to  complain  of  being  too  often 
admonished  of  their  duty,  till  they  are  pleased  to  practise 
it.  It  is  true  indeed,  we  have  the  satisfaction  of  seeing 
a  spirit  of  beneficence  prevail,  in  a  very  commendable 
degree,  amongst  all  ranks  of  people,  and  in  a  very 
distinguished  manner  in  some  persons  amongst  the 
highest;  yet  it  is  evident,  too  many  of  all  ranks  are  very 
deficient  in  it,  who  are  of  great  ability,  and  of  whom 
much  might  be  expected.  Though  every  thing  therefore 
were  done  in  behalf  of  the  poor  which  is  wanted,  yet 
these  persons  ought  repeatedly  to  be  told,  how  highly 
blamable  they  are  for  letting  it  be  done  without  them ; 
and  done  by  persons,  of  whom  great  numbers  must  have 
much  less  ability  than  they. 

But  whoever  can  really  think,  that  the  necessities  of 
the  disabled  poor  are  sufficiently  provided  for  already, 
must  be  strangely  prejudiced.  If  one  were  to  send  you 
to  them  themselves  to  be  better  informed,  you  would 
readily  answer,  that  their  demands  would  be  very  extra- 
vagant; that  persons  are  not  to  be  their  own  judges  in 
claims  of  justice,  much  less  in  those  of  charity.  You 
then,  I  am  speaking  to  the  hard  people  above  mentioned, 
you  are  to  judge,  what  provision  is  to  be  made  for  the 
necessitous,  so  far  as  it  depends  upon  your  contributions. 
But  ought  you  not  to  remember  that  you  are  interested, 
that  you  are  parties  in  the  affair  as  well  as  they.  For  is 
not  the  giver  as  really  so  as  the  receiver?  And  as  there 
is  danger  that  the  receiver  will  err  one  way,  is  there  not 
danger  that  the  giver  may  err  the  other since  it  is  not 
matter  of  arbitrary  choice,  which  has  no  rule,  but  matter 
of  real  equity,  to  be  considered  as  in  the  presence  of 
God,  what  provision  shall  be  made  for  the  poor.P  And 
therefore,  though  you  are  yourselves  the  only  judges, 
what  you  will  do  in  their  behalf,  for  the  case  admits  no 
other;  yet  let  me  tell  you,  you  will  not  be  in  partial, 


GOVERNORS  OF  THE  LONDON  INFIRMARY  259 

you  will  not  be  equitable  judges,  until  you  have,  guarded 
against  the  influence  which  interest  is  apt  to  have  upon 
your  judgment,  and  cultivated  within  you  the  spirit  of 
charity  to  balance  it.  Then  you  will  see  the  various 
remaining  necessities  which  call  for  relief.  But  that 
there  are  many  such  must  be  evident  at  first  sight  to  the 
most  careless  observer,  were  it  only  from  hence,  that 
both  this  and  the  other  hospitals  are  often  obliged  to 
reject  poor  objects  which  ofi"er,  even  for  want  of  room, 
or  wards  to  contain  them. 

Notwithstanding  many  persons  have  need  of  these 
admonitions,  yet  there  is  a  good  spirit  of  beneficence,  as 
I  observed,  pretty  generally  prevailing.  And  I  must 
congratulate  you  upon  the  great  success  it  has  given  to 
the  particular  good  work  before  us;  great,  I  think, 
beyond  all  example  for  the  time  it  has  subsisted.  Nor 
would  it  be  unsuitable  to  the  present  occasion  to  recount 
the  particulars  of  this  success.  For  the  necessary 
accommodations  which  have  been  provided,  and  the 
numbers  who  have  been  relieved,  in  so  short  a  time, 
cannot  but  give  high  reputation  to  the  London  Infirmary. 
And  the  reputation  of  any  particular  charity,  like  credit 
ip  trade,  is  so  much  real  advantage,  without  the  incon- 
veniences to  which  that  is  sometimes  liable.  It  will 
bring  in  contributions  for  its  support;  and  men  of 
character,  as  they  shall  be  wanted,  to  assist  in  the 
management  of  it;  men  of  skill  in  the  professions,  men 
of  conduct  in  business,  to  perpetuate,  improve,  and 
bring  it  to  perfection.  So  that  you,  the  contributors  to 
this  charity,  and  more  especially  those  of  you  by  whose 
immediate  care  and  economy  it  is  in  so  high  repute,  arc 
encouraged  to  go  on  with  your  labour  of  love*  not  only 
by  the  present  good,  which  you  see  is  here  done,  but 
likewise  by  the  prospect  of  what  will  probably  be  done, 
by  your  means,  in  future  times,  when  this  infirmary  shall 
become,  as  I  hope  it  will,  no  less  renowned  than  the  city 
in  which  it  is  established. 

But  to  see  how  far  it  is  from  being  yet  complete,  for 
want  of  contributions,  one  need  only  look  upon  tlie 
settled  rules  of  the  house  for  admission  of  patients.  See 
there  the  limitations  which  necessity  prescribes,  as  to 

•  Heb.  vl.  10. 
B2 


260  A  SERMON  PREACHED  BEFORE  THE 

the  persons  to  be  admitted.  Read  but  that  one  order, 
though  others  might  be  mentioned,  that  none  who  are 
judged  to  he  in  an  asthmatiCj  consumptive,  or  dying  condition, 
be  admitted  on  any  account  whatsoever.  Harsh  as  these 
words  sound,  they  proceed  out  of  the  mouth  of  Charity 
herself.  Charity  pronounces  it  to  be  better,  that  poor 
creatures,  who  might  receive  much  ease  and  rehef,  should 
be  denied  it,  if  their  case  does  not  admit  of  recovery, 
rather  than  that  others,  whose  case  does  admit  of  it,  be 
left  to  perish.  But  it  shocks  humanity  to  hear  such  an 
alternative  mentioned;  and  to  think,  that  there  should 
be  a  necessity,  as  there  is  at  present,  for  such  restrictions, 
in  one  of  the  most  beneficent  and  best  managed  schemes 
in  the  world.  May  more  numerous  or  larger  contribu- 
tions, at  length,  open  a  door  to  such  as  these ;  that  what 
renders  their  case  in  the  highest  degree  compassionable, 
their  languishing  under  incurable  diseases,  may  no  longer 
exclude  them  from  the  house  of  mercy. 

But  besides  the  persons  to  whom  I  have  been  now 
more  particularly  speaking,  there  are  others,  who  do  not 
cast  about  for  excuses  for  not  contributing  to  the  relief 
of  the  necessitous ;  perhaps  are  rather  disposed  to  relieve 
them ;  who  yet  are  not  so  careful  as  they  ought  to  be, 
to  put  themselves  into  a  capacity  of  doing  it.  For  wfe 
are  as  really  accountable  for  not  doing  the  good  which 
we  might  have  in  our  power  to  do,  if  we  would  manage 
our  affairs  with  prudence,  as  we  are  for  not  doing  the 
good  which  is  in  our  power  now  at  present.  And  hence 
arise  the  obligations  of  economy  upon  people  in  the 
highest,  as  well  as  in  the  lower  stations  of  life,  in  order 
to  enable  themselves  to  do  that  good,  which,  without 
economy,  both  of  them  must  be  incapable  of;  even 
though  without  it  they  could  answer  the  strict  demands 
of  justice ;  which  yet  we  find  neither  of  them  can.  A 
good  man  sheweth  favour,  and  lendeth;  and,  to  enable 
himself  to  do  so,  he  will  guide  his  affairs  with  discretion.* 
For  want  of  this,  many  a  one  has  reduced  his  family  to 
the  necessity  of  asking  relief  from  those  public  charities, 
to  which  he  might  have  left  them  in  a  condition  of 
largely  contributing. 

As  economy  is  the  duty  of  all  persons,  without  excep- 

*  Psalm  cxii.  5. 


• 


GOVERNORS  OF  THE  LONDON  INFIRMARY.  261 

tion,  frugality  and  diligence  are  duties  which  particularly 
belong  to  the  middle  as  well  as  lower  ranks  of  men, 
and  more  particularly  still  to  persons  in  trade  and 
commerce,  whatever  their  fortunes  be.  For  trade  and 
commerce  cannot  otherwise  be  carried  on,  but  is  plainly 
inconsistent  with  idleness  and  profusion:  though  indeed 
were  it  only  from  regard  to  propriety,  and  to  avoid 
being  absurd,  every  one  should  conform  his  behaviour 
to  what  his  situation  in  life  requires,  without  which 
the  order  of  society  must  be  broken  in  upon.  And 
considering  how  inherited  riches  and  a  life  of  leisure 
are  often  employed,  the  generality  of  mankind  have 
cause  to  be  thankful  that  their  station  exempts  them 
from  so  great  temptations;  that  it  engages  them  in  a 
sober  care  of  their  expenses,  and  in  a  course  of  appli- 
cation to  business:  especially  as  these  virtues,  moreover, 
tend  to  give  them,  what  is  an  excellent  groundwork  for 
all  others,  a  stayed  equality  of  temper  and  command  of 
their  passions.  But  when  a  man  is  diligent  and  frugal, 
in  order  to  have  it  in  his  power  to  do  good;  when  he  is 
more  industrious,  or  more  sparing  perhaps  than  his 
circumstances  necessarily  require,  that  he  may  have  to 
give  to  him  that  needeth;*  when  he  labours  in  order  to 
support  the  weak;^  such  care  of  his  affairs  is  itself  cha- 
rity, and  the  actual  beneficence  which  it  enables  him  to 
practise  is  additional  charity. 

You  will  easily  see  why  I  insist  thus  upon  these  things, 
because  I  would  particularly  recommend  the  good 
work  before  us  to  all  ranks  of  people  in  this  great  city. 
And  I  think  I  have  reason  to  do  so,  from  the  considera- 
tion, that  it  very  particularly  belongs  to  them  to  promote 
it.  The  gospel  indeed  teaches  us  to  look  upon  every 
one  in  distress  as  our  neighbour,  yet  neighbourhood  in 
the  literal  sense,  and  likewise  several  other  circum- 
stances, are  providential  recommendations  of  such  and 
such  charities,  and  excitements  to  them;  without  which 
the  necessitous  would  suffer  much  more  than  tlu  y  do  at 
present.  For  our  general  disposition  to  beneficence  would 
not  be  sufficiently  directed,  and  in  otlier  respects  would 
be  very  ineffectual,  if  it  were  not  called  forth  into  action 

»  Ephrs.  iv.  'JS.  +  Arts  xx.  35. 


262  A  SERMON  PREACHED  BEFORE  THE 

by  some  or  other  of  those  providential  circumstances, 
which  form  particular  relations  between  the  rich  and  the 
poor,  and  are  of  course  regarded  by  every  one  in  some 
degree.  But  though  many  persons  among  you,  both  in 
the  way  of  contributions,  and  in  other  ways  no  less 
useful,  have  done  even  more  than  was  to  be  expected, 
yet  I  must  be  allowed  to  say,  that  I  do  not  think  the 
relation  the  inhabitants  of  this  city  bear  to  the  persons 
for  whom  our  infirmary  was  principally  designed,  is 
sufficiently  attended  to  by  the  generality ;  which  may  be 
owing  to  its  late  establishment.  It  is,  you  know,  de- 
signed principally  for  diseased  manufacturers,  seamen  in 
merchant-service,  and  their  ivives  and  children :  and  poor 
manufacturers  comprehend  all  who  are  employed  in  any 
labour  whatever  belonging  to  trade  and  commerce.  The 
description  of  these  objects  shows  their  relation,  and  a 
very  near  one  it  is,  to  you,  my  neighbours,  the  inhabi- 
tants of  this  city.  If  any  of  your  domestic  servants  were 
disabled  by  sickness,  there  is  none  of  you  but  would 
think  himself  bound  to  do  somewhat  for  their  reUef 
Now  these  seamen  and  manufacturers  are  employed  in 
your  immedrate  business.  They  are  servants  of  mer- 
chants, and  other  principal  traders;  as  much  your 
servants  as  if  they  lived  under  your  roof:  though  by 
their  not  doing  so,  the  relation  is  less  in  sight.  And 
supposing  they  do  not  all  depend  upon  traders  of  lower 
rank  in  exactly  the  same  manner,  yet  many  of  them  do ; 
and  they  have  all  connexions  with  you,  which  give  them 
a  claim  to  your  charity  preferably  to  strangers.  They 
are  indeed  servants  of  the  public;  and  so  are  all  indus- 
trious poor  people  as  well  as  they.  But  that  does  not 
hinder  the  latter  from  being  more  immediately  yours. 
And  as  their  being,  servants  to  the  public  is  a  general 
recommendation  of  this  charity  to  all  other  persons,  so 
their  being  more  immediately  yours,  is,  surely,  a  par- 
ticular recommendation  of  it  to  you.  Notwithstanding 
all  this,  I  will  .not  take  upon  me  to  say,  that  every 
one  of  you  is  blamable  who  does  not  contribute  to 
your  infirmary,  for  yours  it  is  in  a  peculiar  sense; 
but  1  will  say,  that  those  of  you  who  do  are  highly 
commendable*.    I  will  say  more,  that  you  promote  a 


/ 


GOVERNORS  OF  THE  LONDON  INFIRMARY. 


203 


very  excellent  work,  which  your  particular  station  is  a 
providential  call  upon  you  to  promote.  And  there  can 
be  no  stronger  reason  than  this  for  doing  any  thing, 
except  the  one  reason,  that  it  would  be  criminal  to 
omit  it. 

These  considerations,  methinks,  might  induce  every 
trader  of  higher  rank  in  this  city  to  become  a  subscriber 
to  the  infirmary  which  is  named  from  it;  and  others  of 
you  to  contribute  somewhat  yearly  to  it,  in  the  way  in 
which  smaller  contributions  are  given.  This  would  be 
a  most  proper  offering  out  of  your  increase  to  him, 
whose  blessing  maketh  rich.*  Let  it  be  more  or  less, 
every  man  according  as  he  purposeih  in  his  heart;  not 
grudgingly  y  or  of  necessity :  for  God  loveth  a  cheerful  giver. f 

The  large  benefactions  of  some  persons  of  abilitv  may 
be  necessary  in |  the  first  establishment  of  a  public 
charity,  and  are  greatly  useful  afterwards  in  maintaining 
it:  but  the  expenses  of  this  before  us,  in  the  extent  and 
degree  of  perfection  to  which  one  would  hope  it  might 
be  brought,  cannot  be  effectually  supported,  any  more 
than  the  expenses  of  civil  government,  without  the 
contribution  of  great  numbers.  You  have  already  the 
assistance  of  persons  of  highest  rank  and  fortune,  of 
which  the  list  of  our  governors,  and  the  present  appear- 
ance, are  illustrious  examples.  And  their  assistance 
would  be  far  from  lessening  by  a  general  contribution  to 
it  amongst  yourselves.  On  the  contrary,  the  general 
contribution  to  it  amongst  yourselves,  which  I  have  been 
proposing,  would  give  it  still  higher  repute,  and  more 
invite  such  persons  to  continue  their  assistance,  and 
accept  the  honour  of  being  in  its  direction.  For  the 
greatest  persons  receive  honour  from  taking  the  direction 
of  a  good  work,  as  they  likewise  give  honour  to  it.  And 
by  these  concurrent  endeavours,  our  infirmary  might  at 
length  be  brought  to  answer,  in  some  competent  mea- 
sure, to  the  occasions  of  our  city. 

Blessed  are  they  who  employ  their  riches  in  promoting 
so  excellent  a  design.  The  temporal  advant;\gcs  of 
them  are  far  from  coming  up,  in  enjoymrnt,  to  what 
they  promise  at  a  distance.     But  the  distinguished 

*  Prov.  X.  82.  +  2  Cor.  ix.  T. 


264  A  SERMON  PREACHED  BEFORE  THE 

privilege,  the  prerogative  of  riches,  is,  that  they  increase 
our  power  of  doing  good.  This  is  their  proper  use.  In 
proportion  as  men  make  this  use  of  them,  they  imitate 
Ahnighty  God;  and  co-operate  together  with  him  in 
promoting  the  happiness  of  the  world;  and  may  expect 
the  most  favourable  judgment,  which  their  case  will 
admit  of,  at  the  last  day,  upon  the  general,  repeated 
maxim  of  the  gospel,  that  we  shall  then  be  treated 
ourselves  as  we  now  treat  others.  They  have  moreover 
the  prayers  of  all  good  men,  those  of  them  particularly 
whom  they  have  befriended;  and,  by  such  exercise  of 
charity,  they  improve  within  themselves  the  temper  of 
it,  which  is  the  very  temper  of  heaven.  Consider  next 
the  peculiar  force  with  which  this  branch  of  charity, 
almsgiving,  is  recommended  to  us  in  these  words;  He 
that  hath  pity  upon  the  poor  lendeth  unip  the  Lord:*  and 
in  these  of  our  Saviour,  Verily  I  say  unto  you,  Inasmuch 
as  ye  have  done  it,  relieved  the  sick  and  needy,  unto  one 
of  the  least  of  these  my  brethren,  ye  have  done  it  unto  me  A 
Beware  you  do  not  explain  away  these  passages  of 
Scripture,  under  the  notion,  that  they  have  been  made 
to  serve  superstitious  purposes:  but  ponder  them  fairly 
in  your  heart ;  and  you  will  feel  them  to  be  of  irresistible 
weight.  Lastly,  let  us  remember,  in  how  many  instances 
we  have  all  left  undone  those  things  which  we  ought  to 
have  done,  and  done  those  things  which  we  ought  not 
to  have  done.  Now  whoever  has  a  serious  sense  of  this 
will  most  earnestly  desire  to  supply  the  good,  which  he 
was  obliged  to  have  done,  but  has  not,  and  undo  the 
evil  which  he  has  done,  or  neglected  to  prevent;  and 
when  that  is  impracticable,  to  make  amends,  in  some 
other  way,  for  his  offences — I  can  mean  only  to  our 
fellow  creatures.  To  make  amends,  in  some  way  or 
other,  to  a  particular  person,  against  whom  we  have 
offended,  either  by  positive  injury,  or  by  neglect;  is  an 
express  condition  of  our  obtaining  forgiveness  of  God, 
when  it  is  in  our  power  to  make  it.  And  when  it  is  not, 
surely  the  next  best  thing  is  to  make  amends  to  society 
by  fervent  charity,  in  a  course  of  doing  good :  which 
riches,  as  I  observed,  put  very  much  within  our  power. 

*  Prov.  xix.  17.  t  Matt.  xxv.  40. 


GOVERNORS  OF  THE  LONDON  INFIRMARY.  265 

How  unhappy  a  choice  then  do  those  rich  men  make, 
who  sacrifice  all  these  high  prerogatives  of  their  state, 
to  the  wretched  purposes  of  dissoluteness  and  vanity,  or 
to  the  sordid  itch  of  heaping  up,  to  no  purpose  at  all; 
whilst  in  the  mean  time  they  stand  charged  with  the 
important  trust,  in  which  they  are  thus  unfaithful,  and 
of  which  a  strict  account  remains  to  be  given  1 


A 

CHARGE 

DEUVERED  TO 

THE  CLERGY 

AT  THE 

PRIMARY  VISITATION  OF  THE  DIOCESS  OF  DURHAM, 

IN  THE  YEAR  MDCCLI  * 


It  is  impossible  for  me,  my  brethren,  upon  our  first 
meeting  of  this  kind,  to  forbear  lamenting  with  you  the 
general  decay  of  religion  in  this  nation;  which  is  now 
observed  by  every  one,  and  has  been  for  some  time  the 
complaint  of  all  serious  persons.  The  influence  of  it  is 
more  and  more  wearing  out  of  the  minds  of  men,  even 
of  those  who  do  not  pretend  to  enter  into  speculations 
upon  the  subject:  but  the  number  of  those  who  do,  and 
who  profess  themselves  unbelievers,  increases,  and  with 
their  numbers  their  zeal.  Zeal,  it  is  natural  to  ask — for 
what.^^  Why  truly  for  nothing,  but  against  every  thing 
that  is  good  and  sacred  amongst  us. 

Indeed,  whatever  efforts  are  made  against  our  religion, 
no  Christian  can  possibly  despair  of  it.  For  he,  who 
has  all  power  in  heaven  and  earth,  has  promised,  that  he 
will  he  with  us  to  the  end  of  the  world.  Nor  can  the 
present  decline  of  it  be  any  stumbling-block  to  such  as  are 
considerate;  since  he  himself  has  so  strongly  expressed 
what  is  as  remarkably  predicted  in  other  passages  of 
Scripture,  the  great  defection  from  his  religion  which 
should  be  in  the  latter  days,  by  that  prophetic  question. 
When  the  Son  of  man  comethj  shall  he  find  faith  upon  the 

*  The  publication  of  Bishop  Butler's  Charge,  in  the  year  1751,  was  followed  by  a 
pamphlet,  printed  in  1752,  entitled,  <'  A  Serious  Inquiry  into  the  Use  and  Importance 
of  External  Religion,  occasioned  by  some  passages  in  the  Right  Reverend  the  Lord 
Bishop  of  Durham's  Charge  to  the  Clergy  of  that  Diocess,  &c.,  humbly  address**]  to 
his  Lordship."  This  pamphlet  has  been  reprinted  in  a  miscellaneous  work  :  such  part-* 
of  it  as  seemed  most  worthy  of  observation,  the  reader  will  find  in  the  following  note 
npon  those  passages  of  the  Cliarge  to  which  the  pamphlet  refers. 


CHARGE  TO  THE  CLERGY  OF  DURHAM.  267 

earth?  How  near  this  time  is,  God  only  knows;  but 
this  kind  of  Scripture  signs  of  it  is  too  apparent.  For 
as  different  ages  have  been  distinguished  by  different 
sorts  of  particular  errors  and  vices,  the  deplorable  dis- 
tinction of  ours  is  an  avowed  scorn  of  religion  in  some, 
and  a  growing  disregard  to  it  in  the  generality. 

As  to  the  professed  enemies  of  religion,  I  know  not 
how  often  they  may  come  in  your  way ;  but  often  enough, 
I  fear,  in  the  way  of  some  at  least  amongst  you,  to 
require  consideration,  what  is  the  proper  behaviour 
towards  them.  One  would,  to  be  sure,  avoid  great 
familiarities  with  these  persons;  especially  if  they  affect 
to  be  licentious  and  profane  in  their  common  talk.  Yet 
if  you  fall  into  their  company,  treat  them  with  the  regards 
which  belong  to  their  rank;  for  so  we  must  people  who 
are  vicious  in  any  other  respect.  We  should  study  what 
St  James,  with  wonderful  elegance  and  expressiveness, 
calls  meekness  of  wisdom,  in  our  behaviour  towards  all 
men;  but  more  especially  towards  these  men;  not  so 
much  as  being  whai  we  owe  to  them,  but  to  ourselves 
and  our  religion ;  that  we  may  adorn  the  doctrine  of  God 
our  Saviour,  in  our  carriage  towards  those  who  labour  to 
vihfy  it. 

For  discourse  with  them;  the  caution  commonly  given, 
not  to  attempt  answering  objections  which  we  have  not 
considered,  is  certainly  just.  Nor  need  any  one  in  a 
particular  case  be  ashamed  frankly  to  acknowledge  his 
ignorance,  provided  it  be  not  general.  And  though  it 
were,  to  talk  of  what  he  is  not  acquainted  with,  is  a 
dangerous  method  of  endeavouring  to  conceal  it.  But  a 
considerate  person,  however  qualified  he  be  to  defend 
his  rehgion,  and  answer  the  objections  he  hears  made 
against  it,  may  sometimes  see  cause  to  decline  that  oliice. 
Sceptical  and  profane  men  are  extremely  apt  to  bring  up 
this  subject  at  meetings  of  entertainment,  and  such  as 
are  of  the  freer  sort:  innocent  ones  I  mean,  otherwise  I 
should  not  suppose  you  would  be  present  at  them.  Now 
religion  is  by  far  too  serious  a  matter  to  be  the  hackney 
subject  upon  these  occasions.  And  by  preventing  its 
being  made  so,  you  will  better  secure  the  reverence 
which  is  due  to  it,  than  by  entering  i  into  its  defence. 


268 


CHARGE  TO  THE 


Every  one  observes,  that  men's  having  examples  of 
vice  often  before  their  eyes,  famiharizes  it  to  the  mind, 
and  has  a  tendency  to  take  off  that  just  abhorrence  of 
it  which  the  innocent  at  first  felt,  even  though  it  should 
not  alter  their  judgment  of  vice,  or  make  them  really 
believe  it  to  be  less  evil  or  dangerous.  In  like  manner, 
the  hearing  religion  often  disputed  about  in  light  familiar 
conversation,  has  a  tendency  to  lessen  that  sacred  regard 
to  it,  which  a  good  man  would  endeavour  always  to 
keep  up,  both  in  himself  and  others.  But  this  is  not  all: 
people  are  too  apt  inconsiderately  to  take  for  granted, 
that  things  are  really  questionable,  because  they  hear 
them  often  disputed.  This  indeed  is  so  far  from  being 
a  consequence,  that  we  know  demonstrated  truths  have 
been  disputed,  and  even  matters  of  fact,  the  objects  of 
our  senses.  But  were  it  a  consequence,  were  the 
evidence  of  religion  no  more  than  doubtful,  then  it 
ought  not  to  be  concluded  false  any  more  than  true,  nor 
denied  any  more  than  affirmed ;  for  suspense  would  be 
the  reasonable  state  of  mind  with  regard  to  it.  And 
then  it  ought  in  all  reason,  considering  its  infinite 
importance,  to  have  nearly  the  same  influence  upon 
practice,  as  if  it  were  thoroughly  believed.  For  would 
it  not  be  madness  for  a  man  to  forsake  a  safe  road,  and 
prefer  to  it  one  in  which  he  acknowledges  there  is  an 
even  chance  he  should  lose  his  life,  though  there  were 
an  even  chance  likewise  of  his  getting  safe  through  it  ? 
Yet  there  are  people  absurd  enough,  to  take  the  supposed 
doubtfulness  of  religion  for  the  same  thing  as  a  proof  of 
its  falsehood,  after  they  have  concluded  it  doubtful  from 
hearing  it  often  called  in  question.  This  shows  how 
infinitely  unreasonable  sceptical  men  are,  with  regard  to 
religion,  and  that  they  really  lay  aside  their  reason  upon 
this  subject  as  much  as  the  most  extravagant  enthusiasts. 
But  further,  cavilling  and  objecting  upon  any  subject  is 
much  easier  than  clearing  up  difficulties:  and  this  last 
part  will  always  be  put  upon  the  defenders  of  religion. 
Now  a  man  may  be  fully  convinced  of  the  truth  of  a 
matter,  and  upon  the  strongest  reasons,  and  yet  not  be 
able  to  answer  all  the  difficulties  which  may  be  raised 
apon  it. 


CLERGY  OF  DURHAM. 


269 


Then  again,  the  general  evidence  of  religion  is  com- 
plex and  various.  It  consists  qi  a  long  series  of  things, 
one  preparatory  to  and  confirming  another,  from  the 
very  beginning  of  the  world  to  the  present  time.  And 
it  is  easy  to  see  how  impossible  it  must  be,  in  a  cursory 
conversation,  to  unite  all  this  into  one  argument,  and 
represent  it  as  it  ought;  and,  could  it  be  done,  how 
utterly  indisposed  people  would  be  to  attend  to  it — I 
say  in  a  cursory  conversation:  whereas  unconnected 
objections  are  thrown  out  in  a  few  words,  and  are  easily 
apprehended,  without  more  attention  than  is  usual  in 
common  talk.  So  that,  notwithstanding  we  have  the 
best  cause  in  the  world,  and  though  a  man  were  very 
capable  of  defending  it,  yet  I  know  not  why  he  should 
be  forward  to  undertake  it  upon  so  great  a  disadvantage, 
and  to  so  little  good  effect,  as  it  must  be  done  amidst 
the  gaiety  and  carelessness  of  common  conversation. 

But  then  it  will  be  necessary  to  be  very  particularly 
upon  your  guard,  that  you  may  not  seenij  by  way  of 
compliance,  to  join  in  with  any  levity  of  discourse 
respecting  religion.  Nor  would  one  let  any  pretended 
argument  against  it  pass  entirely  without  notice;  nor  any 
gross  ribaldry  upon  it,  without  expressing  our  thorough 
disapprobation.  This  last  may  sometimes  be  done  by 
silence:  for  silence  sometimes  is  very  expressive;  as 
was  that  of  our  blessed  Saviour  before  the  Sanhedrim 
and  before  Pilate.  Or  it  may  be  done  by  observing 
mildly,  that  religion  deserves  another  sort  of  treatment, 
or  a  more  thorough  consideration,  than  such  a  time,  or 
such  circumstances  admit.  However,  as  it  is  absohitely 
necessary,  that  we  take  care,  by  diligent  reading  and 
study,  to  be  always  prepared,  to  be  readi/  always  to  give 
an  answer  to  every  man  that  askcth  a  reason  of  the  hope 
that  is  in  us;  so  there  may  be  occasions  when  it  will 
highly  become  us  to  do  it.  And  then  we  must  take 
care  to  do  it  in  the  spirit  which  the  apostle  requires, 
with  meekness  and  fear:*  meekness  towards  those  who 
give  occasions  for  entering  into  the  defence  of  our 
religion  ;  and  with  fear,  not  of  them,  but  of  God  ;  with 
that  reverential  fear,  which  the  nature  of  religion  requirtf, 

•  1  PtU  uw.ifl- 


I 


^'^  CHARGE  TO  THE 

and  which  is  so  far  from  being  inconsistent  with,  that  it 
will  inspire  proper  courage  towards  men.  Now  this 
reverential  fear  will  lead  us  to  insist  strongly  upon  the 
infinite  greatness  of  God's  scheme  of  government,  both 
in  extent  and  duration,  together  with  the  wise  connexion 
of  its  parts,  and  the  impossibility  of  accounting  fully  for 
the  several  parts,  without  seeing  the  whole  plan  of 
Providence  to  which  they  relate;  which  is  beyond  the 
utmost  stretch  of  our  understanding.  And  to  all  this 
must  be  added  the  necessary  deficiency  of  human 
language,  when  things  divine  are  the  subject  of  it.  These 
observations  are  a  proper  full  answer  to  many  objections, 
and  very  material  with  regard  to  all. 

But  your  standing  business,  and  Avhich  requfres  con- 
stant attention,  is  with  the  body  of  the  people;  to  revive 
in  them  the  spirit  of  religion,  which  is  so  much  declining. 
And  it  may  seem,  that  whatever  reason  there  be  for 
caution  as  to  entering  into  an  argumentative  defence  of 
religion  in  common  conversation,  yet  that  it  is  necessary  to 
do  this  from  the  pulpit,  in  order  to  guard  the  people 
against  being  corrupted,  however  in  some  places.  But 
then  surely  it  should  be  done  in  a  manner  as  little 
controversial  as  possible.  For  though  such  as  are  capable 
of  seeing  the  force  of  objections  "are  capable  also  of 
seeing  the  force  of  the  answers  which  are  given  to  them ; 
yet  the  truth  is,  the  people  will  not  competently  attend  to 
either.    But  it  is  easy  to  see  which  they  will  attend  to 
most.    And  to  hear  religion  treated  of  as  what  many 
deny,  and  which  has  much  said  against  it  as  well  as  for 
it;  this  cannot  but  have  a  tendency  to  give  them  ill 
impressions  at  any  time;  and  seems  paVticularly  improper 
for  all  persons  at  a  time  of  devotion ;  even  for  such  as 
are  arrived  at  the  most  settled  state  of  piety;  I  say  at  a 
time  of  devotion,  when  we  are  assembled  to  vield  our- 
selves up  to  the  full  influence  of  the  Divine  Presence, 
and  to  call  forth  into  actual  exercise  every  pious  affection 
of  heart.    For  it  is  to  be  repeated,  that  the  heart  and 
course  of  affections  may  be  disturbed  when  there  is  no 
alteration  of  judgment.  Now  the  evidence  of  religion  may 
be  laid  before  men  without  any  air  of  controversy.  The 
proof  of  the  being  of  God,  from  final  causes,  or  the'desi^n 


CLERGY  OF  DURHAM. 


271 


and  wisdom  which  appears  in  every  part  of  nature ;  to- 
gether with  the  law  of  virtue  written  upon  our  hearts  the 
proof  of  Christianity  from  miracles,  and  the  accomplish- 
ment of  prophecies;  and  the  confirmation  which  the 
natural  and  civil  history  of  the  world  give  to  the  Scripture 
account  of  things:  these  evidences  of  religion  might 
properly  be  insisted  on,  in  a  way  to  affect  and  influence 
the  heart,  though  there  were  no  professed  unbelievers 
in  the  world;  and  therefore  may  be  insisted  on,  without 
taking  much  notice  that  there  are  such.  And  even  their 

*  The  author  of  the  Inquiry,  mentioned  above,  informs  us,  in  his  postscript,  that 
"  the  certain  consequence  of  referring  mankind  to  a  laic  of  nature,  or  virtue,  written 
upon  their  hearts,  is  their  having  recourse  to  their  own  sense  of  things  on  all  occasions ; 
which  being,  in  a  great  majority,  no  better  than  family  superstition,  party-prejudice, 
or  self-interested  artifice  (perhaps  a  compound  of  all),  will  be  too  apt  to  overrule  the 
plain  precepts  of  the  gospel."   And  he  declares,  he  has  "  no  better  opinion  of  the 
clearness,  certainty,  uniformity,  universality,  &c.,  of  this  law,  than"  he  has  "of  the 
importance  of  external  religion."^    What  then  must  we  say  to  St  Paul,  who  not  only 
asserts,  in  the  strongest  terms,  the  reality  of  such  a  law,  but  speaks  of  its  Obligation 
as  extending  to  all  mankind  ?  blaming  some  among  the  Gentiles  as  without  excuse,  for 
not  adverting  to  and  obeying  it ;  and  commending  others  for  doing  by  nature  (in  con- 
tradistinction to  revelation)  the  things  contained  in  the  law,  thus  showing  the  work  of 
the  law  written  in  their  hearts.    If,  because  "  natural  religion  is  liable  to  be  mistaken, 
it  is  high  time  to  have  done  with  it  in  the  pulpit;"  how  comes  it  that  the  same  apostle 
refers  the  Philippians  to  the  study  of  this  religion,  to  whatsoever  things  are  true,  honest, 
just,  lovely,  and  of  good  report  ?    And  yet,  without  such  a  study,  our  knowledge  of 
the  moral  law  must  always  remain  imperfect;  for  a  complete  system  of  morality  is 
certainly  no  where  to  be  found  either  in  the  Old  or  New  Testament.f    When  a 
Christian  minister  is  enforcing  the  duties  or  doctrines  of  revealed  religion,  he  may 
perhaps  do  well  to  "tell  his  people  he  has  no  other  proof  of  the  original,  truth,  obli 
gations,  present  benefits  and  future  rewards  of  religion,  to  lay  before  them,  than  what 
is  contained  in  the  Scriptures."    But  what  if  his  purpose  be  to  inculcate  some  moral 
virtue?    Will  it  not  be  useful  here,  besides  observing  that  the  practice  of  tliat  virtue 
is  enjoined  by  a  divine  command,  to  recommend  it  still  further  to  his  hearers,  by 
showing  that  it  approves  itself  to  our  inward  sense  and  perception,  and  accords  with 
the  native  sentiments  and  suggestions  of  our  minds?    Metaphysicians  may  say  what 
they  will  of  our  feelings  of  this  sort  being  all  illusive,  liable  to  be  perverted  by 
education  and  habit,  and  judged  of  by  men's  own  sense  of  things ;  they,  whose 
understandings  are  yet  unspoiled  by  philosophy  and  vain  deceit,  will  be  little  disposed  to 
listen  to  such  assertions.     Nor  are  there  wanting  arguments  whicii  prove,  and,  as 
should  seem,  to  the  satisfaction  of  every  reasonable  inquirer,  that  the  great  and  leading 
principles  of  moral  duties  have  in  all  ages  been  the  same  ;  that  such  virtu^^s  as  l)ene- 
volence,  justice,  compassion,  gratitude,  accidental  obstacles  removed,  and  wh»  n  the 
precise  meaning  of  the  words  has  been  once  explained,  are  instinctively  known  niui 
approved  by  all  men;  and  that  our  approbation  of  these  is  as  much  n  part  of  our 
nature  implanted  in  us  by  God,  and  as  iitllr  liable  to  caprice  and  fashion,  as  the  sense 
of  seeing,  given  us  also  by  him,  by  which  all  IxHlies  appear  to  us  in  an  rnrt,  nml  not 
an  invertetl  position.}:    Mr  Locke's  authority  has  been  generally  l(H>k»il  up  to  as 
decisive  on  such  questions;  and  his  sentiments  have  IxH'n  embnwrti  implicitly,  and 
without  examination.    That  gn  at  and  goo<l  man,  however,  is  not  to  \h'  charged  with 
the  pernicious  consequences  which  others  have  drawn  from  his  opinions  :  ronsequrnoea 
which  have  been  carried  to  such  a  length,  as  to  destroy  all  monU  diffen'nce  of  human 
actions;  making  virtue  and  vice  altogether  arbitmry  ;  rolling  evil  gw>d,  and  good 
evil ;  putting  darkness  ftr  light,  and  light  for  darkness  ;  putting  bitter  for  tweet,  and 
ticeei  for  bitter. 


}  See  the  second  of  Dr  BaUfU)  '<  Huvrgos.      X  3»o  tho  third  of  nishop  Hurd'i  Scrmuus,  toL  L 


272 


CHARGE  TO  THE 


4 


particular  objections  may  be  obviated  without  a  formal 
mention  of  them.  Besides,  as  to  religion  in  general,  it 
is  a  practical  thing,  and  no  otherwise  a  matter  of  specu- 
lation, than  common  prudence  in  the  managemxent  of 
our  worldly  affairs  is  so.  And  if  one  were  endeavouring 
to  bring  a  plain  man  to  be  more  careful  with  regard  to 
this  last,  it  would  be  thought  a  strange  method  of  doing 
it,  to  perplex  him  with  stating  formally  the  several 
objections  which  men  of  gaiety  or  speculation  have 
made  against  prudence,  and  the  advantages  which  they 
pleasantly  tell  us  folly  has  over  it;  though  one  could 
answer  those  objections  ever  so  fully. 

Nor  does  the  want  of  religion  in  the  generality  of  the 
common  people  appear  owing  to  a  speculative  disbelief 
or  denial  of  it,  but  chiefly  to  thoughtlessness  and  the 
common  temptations  of  life.  Your  chief  business  there- 
fore is  to  endeavour  to  beget  a  practical  sense  of  it  upon 
their  hearts,  as  what  they  acknowledge  their  belief  of, 
and  profess  they  ought  to  conform  themselves  to.  And 
this  is  to  be  done  by  keeping  up,  as  we  are  able,  the 
form  and  face  of  religion  with  decency  and  reverence, 
and  in  such  a  degree  as  to  bring  the  thoughts  of  religion 
often  to  their  minds;*  and  then  endeavouring  to  make 
this  form  more  and  more  subservient  to  promote  the 
reality  and  power  of  it.  The  form  of  religion  may 
indeed  be  where  there  is  little  of  the  thing-  itself ;  but 
the  thing  itself  cannot  be  preserved  amongst  mankind 
without  the  form.t    And  this  form  frequently  occurring 

*  To  this  it  is  said  by  our  inquirer,  that  "  the  clergy  of  the  church  of  England 
have  no  way  of  keeping  up  the  /orm  and  face  of  religion,  any  oftener,  or  in  any  other 
degree,  than  is  directed  by  the  prescribed  order  of  the  church."  As  if  the  whole  duty 
of  a  parish  priest  consisted  in  reading  prayers  and  a  sermon  on  Sundays,  and  performing 
the  occasional  offices  appointed  in  the  liturgy  !  One  would  think  the  writer  who  made 
this  objection  had  never  read  more  of  the  Charge  than  the  four  pages  he  has  parti- 
cularly selected  for  the  subject  of  his  animadversions.  Had  he  looked  further, 
he  would  have  found  other  methods  recommended  to  the  clergy,  of  introducing  a 
sense  of  religion  into  the  minds  of  their  parishioners  which  occur  much  oftener  than 
the  times  alloLted  for  the  public  services  of  the  church:  such  as  family  prayers; 
acknowledging  the  divine  bounty  at  our  meals;  personal  applications  from  ministers 
of  parishes  to  individuals  under  their  care,  on  particular  occasions  and  circumstances : 
as  at  the  time  of  confirmation,  at  first  receiving  the  holy  communion,  on  recovery 
from  sickness,  and  the  like ;  none  of  which  are  prescribed  in  our  established  ritual, 
any  more  than  those  others  so  ludicrously  mentioned  by  this  writer,  "bowing  to  the 
east,  turning  the  face  to  that  quarter  in  repeating  the  creeds,  dipping  the  finger  in 
water,  and  therewith  crossing  the  child's  forehead  in  baptism." 

f  The  quakers  reject  all' forms,  even  the  two  of  Christ's  own  institution:  will  it 
be  said,  that  "  these  men  liave  no  religion  preserved  among  them?"    It  will  neither 


CLERGY  OF  DURHAM. 


273 


in  sorne  instance  or  other  of  it  will  be  a  frequent  admo- 
nition to  bad  men  to  repent,  and  to  good  men  to  grow 
better;  and  also  be  the  means  of  their  doing  so.* 

That  which  men  have  accounted  rehgion  in  the  several 
countries  of  the  world,  generally  speaking,  has  had  a 
great  and  conspicuous  part  in  all  public  appearances, 
and  the  face  of  it  been  kept  up  with  great  reverence 
throughout  all  ranks,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest ; 
not  only  upon  occasional  solemnities,  but  also  in  the  daily 
course  of  behaviour.  In  the  heathen  world,  their 
superstition  was  the  chief  subject  of  statuary,  sculpture, 
painting,  and  poetry.  It  mixed  itself  with  business,  civil 
forms,  diversions,  domestic  entertainments,  and  every 
part  of  common  life.  The  Mahometans  are  obliged  to 
short  devotions  five  times  between  morning  and  evening. 
In  Roman  Catholic  countries,  people  cannot  pass  a  day 
without  having  religion  recalled  to  their  thoughts,  by 
some  or  other  memorial  of  it;  by  some  ceremony  or 
public  religious  form  occurring  in  their  way:t  besides 

be  said  nor  insinuated.  The  quakcrs,  though  they  have  not  the  form,  are  careful  to 
keep  up  the  face  of  religion  ;  as  appf  ars  not  only  from  the  custom  of  assembling 
themselves  for  the  purposes  of  public  worship  on  the  Lord's  day,  but  from  their 
silent  meetings  on  other  days  of  the  week.  And  that  they  are  equally  sensible  of 
the  importance  of  maintaining  the  influence  of  religion  on  their  niiiids,  is  manifest 
from  the  practice  of  what  they  call  xnnHird  prayer^  in  conformity  to  the  din-ction  of 
Scripiiire  to  ^oroy  co«^'«wa//v  ■  "which,"  snith  Robert  Barclay,  "ciinnot  be  »uiil»'r- 
slood  outward  prayer,  because  it  were  impossible  that  nu  n  should  be  always  upon 
tlieir  kiipj's,  expressing  the  words  of  prayer;  whicii  would  hinder  ihem  frooi  tin; 
t'XfrTcisp  of  those  duties  no  less  positively  commanded." — Apology  for  the  Quakers^ 
I'rop.  xi.  Of  IVorship. 

*  Here  it  has  bern  objected,  that  "the  nvmher,  variety  ,Tind  frequent  iX'Cxirrevcv  of 
forms  in  religion,  are  too  apt  to  be  C()n>;idrred  by  the  generality  as  coinnnitatiuns  for 
tlu  ir  vices,  as  something  substituted  in  lieu  of  repentiince,  as  loails  and  encumhnuict  s 
upon  true  Christian  edification."  This  way  of  arguing  against  the  use  of  a  thing 
trora  the  abuse  of  it,  instead  of  argtiing  from  the  n  itiire  of  the  thing  itself,  is-  tho 
niastHT  sophism  that  pervades  the  whole  perfonnance  we  are  here  exannning.  W  liat 
rfasonal)le  nmn  everdenieii,  lliat  tiie  pomp  of  (uitward  worship  has  been  some  timrs 
jnistnken  for  inward  pieiy  ?  ih;it  positive  institutions,  when  rest^tl  in  as  ends,  instead 
of  bring  applied  as  nu-ans,  are  hurtful  to  the  interests  of  true  religion?  Not  Hishop 
Butler  ci  riainly,  who  blames  the  observances  of  tJu'  papists  on  this  account,  souh-  of 
tliem  as  being  "in  themselves  wrong  anil  superstitious;''  aiul  others,  ns  being 
**  niade  hul)servient  to  the  purposes  of  superstition, "  and  for  this  reason  "alM»lisheti 
by  our  reformers."  In  the  mean  while,  it  will  still  be  true,  that  bodily  w»)rship  is 
by  no  means  to  be  discarded,  as  unusefnl  in  excilin^f  spiritual  devotion  ;  on  the  con- 
trary, that  they  niutualiy  assist  and  strengthen  each  oLlu-r  ;  an«i  that  a  men-  mental 
intercourse  with  (lod,  and  a  religious  service  purely  intellectual,  is  altogetiier 
unsuital)le  to  such  a  creature  as  man,  dnrinij  his  present  state  on  earth, 

f  "  VV'liHt  in  the  former  periotl"  (when  speaking  of  tlu'  heathen  world)  "wa.s  called 
superstUinn,  U-comes  in  this"  (when  speaking  of  Hojiian  f"atlu>Iics)  "religion,  and 
religioi/s  forms  ;  which  the  papists  pretending  to  coi.nect  with  (  hnsiianity ,  Bn«l  the 
Charge  giv  ing  no  hint  that  this  is  no  iimre  (lian  a  pretence,  a  plain  nader  nuist  nenls 
take  Uiis  as  spoken  of  Uie  means  and  mtnionals  of  true  reiigion,  and  will  acconiingly 


274 


CHARGE  TO  THE 


tlieir  frequent  holydays,  the  short  prayers  they  are  daily 
called  to,  and  the  occasional  devotion  enjoined  by  con- 
fessors. By  these  means  their  superstition  sinks  deep 
into  the  minds  of  the  people,  and  their  religion  also  into 
the  minds  of  such  among  them  as  are  serious  and  well- 
disposed.  Our  reformers,  considering  that  some  of 
these  observances  were  in  themselves  wrong  and  super- 
stitious, and  others  of  them  made  subservient  to  the 
purposes  of  superstition,  abolished  them,  reduced  the 
form  of  religion  to  great  simplicit}',  and  enjoined  no  more 
particular  rules,  nor  left  any  thing  more  of  what  was 
external  in  rehoion,  than  was  in  a  manner  necessarv  to 
preserve  a  sense  of  religion  itself  upon  the  minds  of  the 
people.  But  a  great  part  of  this  is  neglected  by  the 
generality  amongst  us;  for  instance,  the  service  of  the 
church,  not  only  upon  common  days,  but  also  upon 
saints'  days;  and  several  other  things  might  be  men- 
tioned. Thus  they  have  no  customary  admonition,  no 
public  call  to  recollect  the  thoughts  of  God  and  religion 
from  one  Sunday  to  another. 

It  was  far  otherwise  under  the  law.  These  words,* 
says  Moses  to  the  children  of  Israel,  ickich  I  command 
thee,  shall  he  in  thine  heart:  and  thou  shaJt  teach  them 

consider  these  as  recommended  to  his  practice  and  imitation."  If  a  plain  reader,  at 
first  view  of  the  passage  alluded  to^  should  inadvertentlv  fall  into  sucii  a  mistake,  he 
would  find  that  mistake  immediately  corrected  by  the  very  next  sentence  that  follows, 
where  ti;e  re ligion  of  the  Roman  Catholics,  and  their  superstition,  are  distinguished 
from  each  o'J:er  in  express  words.  But  the  terms  in  question  are  used  with  the 
strictest  propriety.  The  dr'sign  of  the  bishop,  in  this  part  of  his  Charge,  is  to  consider 
religion,  not  under  the  notion  of  its  being  true,  but  as  it  affects  the  senses  and 
imaginations  of  the  multitude.  For  so  the  paragraph  begins:  "That  wl.ich  men 
have  accounted  religion  in  the  several  coimtries  of  the  world"  (whether  the  religion  be 
true  or  lalx'  is  beside  his  present  argument),  "  gem-rally  speaking,  has  had  a  great  and 
conspicuous  part  in  all  public  appearances."  This  position  he  illustrates  by  three 
examplf'S.  the  Heathen,  the  Mahometan,  and  the  Roman  Catholic  religions.  The  two 
first  of  these,  having  Title  or  nothing  of  true  religion  belonging  to  them,  may  well  enough 
be  character'sed  ujider  the  common  name  of  supers'ition :  the  last  contains  a  mixture 
of  both  ;  which  therefore  the  bishop,  like  a  good  writer,  as  well  as  a  ju«t  reasoner, 
is  careful  to  distinguish.  In  Roman  Catliolic  countries,  a  man  can  hardly  travel  a 
mile  without  passing  a  crucifix  erected  on  the  road  side:  he  may  either  stop  to 
worship  the  image  represented  on  the  cross,  or  he  may  simply  be  reminded  by  it  of 
liis  own  relation  to  Christ  crucified;  tlnis  by  one  and  tlie  same  outward  sign, 
religion  may  be  recalled  to  his  thoughts,"  or  snper>tition  may  take  pf>«session  of  his 
mind.  lu  the  celebration  of  the  eucharist,  the  elements  of  bread  and  wijie  are 
regarded  by  a  papist  as  the  very  b<Kly  and  bl(X>l  of  Christ;  to  a  protestant,  they 
appear  only  as  symbols  and  memorials  of  that  bo<ly  and  blood:  what  in  one  is  an  act  of 
rational  devotion,  becomes  in  tJie  other  an  instance  of  the  grossest  superstition,  if  not 
idolalr/. 

•  DeuL  vi.  6,  7. 


CLERGY  OF  DURHAM. 


275 


'diligently  unfo  thy  childrenj  and  shalt  talk  of  them  when 
thou  sittest  in  thine  house y  and  vJien  thou  walked  hy  the 
trayy  and  when  thou  liest  downy  and  when  thou  risest  up  * 
And  as  they  were  commanded  this,  so  it  is  obvious  how 
mach  the  constitution  of  that  law  was  adapted  to  effect 
it,  and  keep  rehgion  ever  in  view.  And  without  some- 
what of  this  nature,  piety  will  grow  languid  even  among 
the  better  sort  of  men;  and  the  worst  will  go  on  quietly 
in  an  abandoned  course,  with  fewer  interruptions  from 
within  than  they  would  have,  were  religious  reflections 
forced  oftener  upon  their  minds,t  and  consequently  with 

*  Allowing  that  "  what  Moses  in  this  passage  wanted  m  have  effecied  was  obe- 
dience to  the  moral  law,"  notiiine,  sure,  coulH  be  of  greater  use  in  stcurinff  that 
"Obedience  than  the  practice  here  enjoiueU.  Our  in^/uirvr,  however,  is  of"  a  different 
opinioB^  and  "  very  much  questions  whether  his  lordship  could  have  fallen  upon  any 
passage  in  the  Old  Testament,  which  relates  ai  all  to  his  subject,  that  would  have 
been  less  favourable  to  his  argiiment.^  /f'/io  shall  decidf,  ice? — The  blsht^  goes 
«i,  "  As  they  (ihe  Jews)  were  commanded  this,  so  it  is  obvious  how  much  the  con- 
stitution of  their  law  was  adapted  to  effect  it.  and  keep  religion  ever  in  view."  Upoa 
which  the  inficirer  remarks,  ■*  It  ?i-as  Llien  very  ill.  or  at  least  very  unwisely  done,  to 
abrogate  that  law,  whose  constitution  wa<  adapted  to  so  excellent  a  purpose."  Let 
us  first,  see  what  may  be  offered  in  defence  of  tlie  bishop,  and  then  consider  what  is 
to  be  said  in  answer  to  his  opf  onenL  The  purpo^*  for  which  the  Mosaic  constitution 
was  established  was  this  :  to  preserve,  amidst  a  world  unrversaliy  addicted  to  poly- 
theism and  idolatry,  the  great  doctrine  of  tl.e  Unity  of  the  Divine  Nature,  ti/l  the 
•seed  should  come  to  whom  the  promise  ttas  made.  As  a  means  to  this  enti,  the 
Israelites  were  not  only  to  be  kept  separate  from  every  other  nation  ;  but,  tl»e  l)etu  r 
to  ensure  such  separation,  they  were  to  be  constantly  employed  in  a  multifarious 
ritual,  which  left  them  neither  time  nor  opportunity  for  deviating  into  the  supersti- 
tious oljservances  of  their  pagan  neighbours.  And  tliis,  I  suppose,  may  suffice-  for 
TindicatiBg  the  bishop's  assertion,  that  "  tlie  constitution  of  the  Jewish  law  wns 
adapted  to  keep  religiou  ever  in  view."  But  the  Jewish  law  was  not  only  adaptru 
to  tfjis  end  ;  we  are  next  to  observe,  that  the  end  itself  »-as  actually  gained.  For 
though  it  be  too  DOtorious  to  be  denied,  that  the  Jews  did  not  always  confine  thrir 
re!  :  nage  to  the  God  of  Israel,  but  polluted  the  <r  -    .     •  " 

w  ■■orship  ;  yet,  even  Ln  their  worst  defection,  .  id. 

t!:'  '.ally  rejected  the  true  Jehova'  •      !  jfter  tl:-  .    .      ,  iiy, 

they  were  so  thoroughly  cured  of  all  rem  iisity  to  tlie  idolatrous  riii-s  of 

iieathenisin,  as  never  again  to  violate  th<  _      e  to  the  God  of  their  fathers. 

It  appears  then,  that,  in  con^nence  of  the  Jewish  >eparation,  the  prinriple  of  th^ 
Unity  was  in  fart  preserved  inviolate  among  that  people  till  the  coming  of  Christ. 
When  the  Mosaic  connitution  had  tlius  attained  its  end,  and  mankind  were  n«itv 
prepr»r«-f|  for  th*»  re^'eption  of  a  f-eftrr  ecrenani,  the  law  expired  of  course  :  ti  e  |  ;:rti 
lion  wall  titat  had  divided  the  Jew  from  tlie  Gentile  was  taken  down,  and  nil  <i  -'.  nc 
tion  l)etwpen  them  h»st,  under  the  common  name  of  Christians.  And  this  may  ^utfiri. 
in  show,  in  opposition  to  our  inquirer,  tliat  it  was  bolh  very  letU  arel  very  »ni»r/y  dmw 
to  i  law,  when  the  purpose  for  wiiich  the  law  had  been  enacu^l  was 

T  \  f  ling  to  the  bishop's  doctrine,"  then,  say^  the  myurrr-  •  '  '  'w<  not 
only  good  policy,  but  wholesome  discipline,  to  force  men  in  /  tu 
church,  and  in  Fr-.nre  to  go  to  mass."  \\\<\  agnin,  "  If  exi»  n  ruje 
to  enforce  religious  reflec'-ionn,  it  mu^t  fx»  right  U)  compel  ihosr  who  are  indi«{ta8e«l  to 
such  n'flpr(u)n':.  to  a''«  rd  the*-*-  m^nionHl-!  "  Ye>  ;  crmnt-ncr  that  th**  *pn<r  of  the 
MLSSBg''  '  the 


276 


CHARGE  TO  THE 


less  probability  of  their  amendment.  Indeed  m  most 
ages  of  the  church,  the  care  of  reasonable  men  has  been, 
as  there  has  been  for  the  most  part  occasion,  to  draw 
the  people  off  from  laying  too  great  weight  upon  external 
things;  upon  formal  acts  of  piety.  But  the  state  of 
matters  is  quite  changed  now  with  us.  These  things  are 
neglected  to  a  degree,  which  is,  and  cannot  but  be 
attended  with  a  decay  of  all  that  is  good.  It  is  highly 
seasonable  now  to  instruct  the  people  in  the  importance 
of  external  religion.* 

And  doubtless  under  this  head  must  come  into  con- 
sideration a  proper  regard  to  the  structures  which  are 
consecrated  to  the  service  of  God.  In  the  present  turn 
of  the  age,  one  may  observe  a  wonderful  frugality  in 
every  thing  which  has  respect  to  religion,  and  extrava- 
gance in  every  thing  else.  But  amidst  the  appearances 
of  opulence  and  improvement  in  all  common  things, 
which  are  now  seen  in  most  places,  it  would  be  hard  to 
find  a  reason  why  these  monuments  of  ancient  piety 
should  not  be  preserved  in  their  original  beauty  and 
magnificence.  But  in  the  least  opulent  places  they  must 
be  preserved  in  becoming  repair ;  and  every  thing 
relating  to  the  divine  service  be,  however,  decent  and 
clean  ;  otherwise  we  shall  vilify  the  face  of  religion 
whilst  we  keep  it  up.  All  this  is  indeed  principally  the 
duty  of  others.  Yours  is  to  press  strongly  upon  them 
what  is  their  duty  in  this  respect,  and  admonish  them  of 
it  often,  if  they  are  negligent. 

in  men  s  toay,  brought  more  frequently  into  their  thoughts ^  so  as  to  produce  an  habitual 

recollection  that  they  are  always  in  the  divine  presence. 

*  "  The  importance  of  external  religion,"  tlie  inquirer  remarks,  "  is  the  grand  engine 
of  tlie  papists,  which  they  play  with  the  greatest  effect  upon  our  common  people,  who 
are  always  soonest  taken  and  ensnared  by  form  and  show ;  and,  so  far  as  we  concur 
with  them  in  the  principle,  we  are  doing  Uieir  work  ;  since,  if  externals,  as  such,  are 
important,  the  plain  natural  consequence  is,  the  more  of  them  the  better^'*  He  had  the 
same  reflection  once  before  :  "  If  true  religion  cannot  be  preserved  among  men  with- 
out forms,  the  consequence  must  be,  that  the  Romish  religion,  having  more 

frequent  occurrences  of  forms,  is  bctu  r  than  olher  religions  which  have  fewer  of 

these  occurrences."    To  this  argument  I  reply,  Nego  conseguentiam.  There  may 

be  too  much  of  form  in  religion,  as  w«  ll  as  too  liule  :  ihe  one  leads  to  enthusiasm 
the  other  degenerates  into  superstition  ;  one  is  puritnnism,  the  other  popery;  whereas 
the  rational  worship  of  G<xl  is  erpially  reniovf d  tVom  either  extreme.  Did  ihe  inquirer 
never  hear  of  the  possil)ility  of  having  loo  niue.li  ot  a  good  thing?  Or  does  he  sup- 
pose, with  the  late  historian  of  drt'nt  HriLain,  that  all  religion  is  divided  into  two 
■pecies,  the  superstitimis  and  the  fanatical ;  and  that  whatever  is  not  one  of  these, 
cuui  of  necessity  be  the  other 


CLERGY  OF  DURHAM. 


277 


But  then  you  must  be  sure  to  take  care  and  not  neglect 
that  part  of  the  sacred  fabric  which  belongs  to  you  to 
■  maintain  in  repair  and  decency.  Such  neglect  would  be 
great  impiety  in  you,  and  of  most  pernicious  example  to 
others.  Nor  could  you,  with  aiiy  success,  or  any 
propriety,  urge  upon  them  their  duty  in  a  regard  in 
which  you  yourselves  should  be  openly  neglectful  of 
it. 

Bishop  Fleetwood  has  observed,*  that  unless  the  good 
'public  spirit  of  building,  repairing,  and  adorning  churches 
prevails  a  great  deal  more  among  us,  and  be  more 
encouraged,  a  hundred  years  will  bring  to  the  ground  a 
huge  number  of  our  churches.  This  excellent  prelate 
made  this  observation  forty  years  ago :  and  no  one,  I 
believe,  will  imagine,  that  the  good  spirit  he  has  recom- 
mended prevails  more  at  present  than  it  did  then. 

But  if  these  appendages  of  the  divine  service  are  to  be 
regarded,  doubtless  the  divine  service  itself  is  more  to  be 
regarded ;  and  the  conscientious  attendance  upon  it 
ought  often  to  be  inculcated  upon  the  people,  as  a  plain 
precept  of  the  gospel,  as  the  means  of  grace,  and  what 
has  peculiar  promises  annexed  to  it.  But  external  acts 
of  piety  and  devotion,  and  the  frequent  returns  of  them, 
are,  moreover,  necessary  to  keep  up  a  sense  of  religion, 
which  the  affairs  of  the  world  will  otherwise  wear  out  of 
men's  hearts.  And  the  frequent  returns,  whether  of 
public  devotions,  or  of  any  thing  else,  to  introduce 
religion  into  men's  serious  thoughts,  will  have  an  influ- 
ence upon  them,  in  proportion  as  they  are  susceptible  of 
religion,  and  not  given  over  to  a  reprobate  mind.  For 
this  reason,  besides  others,  the  service  of  the  church 
ought  to  be  celebrated  as  often  as  you  can  have  a  con- 
gregation to  attend  it. 

But  since  the  body  of  the  people,  especially  in  country 
places,  cannot  be  brought  to  attend  it  oftener  than  one  day 
in  a  week;  and  since  this  is  in  no  sort  enough  to  keep 
up  in  them  a  due  sense  of  religion ;  it  were  greatly  to 
he  wished  they  could  be  persuaded  to  any  thing  which 
might,  in  some  measure,  supj)ly  the  want  of  more 
frequent  public  devotions,  or  s(  rve  the  like  purposes. 

•Charge  to  Uie  Clergy  of  St  1710. 


27B 


CHAHGE  TO  THE 


Family  prayers,  regularly  kept  up  in  every  house,  woalJ 
have  a  great  and  good  effect. 

Secret  prayer,  as  expressly  as  it  is  commanded  by  our 
Saviour,  and  as  evidently  as  it  is  implied  in  the  notion  of 
piety,  will  yet,  I  fear,  be  grievously  forgotten  by  the 
generality,  till  they  can  be  brought  to  fix  for  themselves 
certain  times  of  the  day  for  it;  since  this  is  not  done  to 
their  hands,  as  it  was  in  the  Jewish  church  by  custom  or 
authority.  Indeed  custom,  as  well  as  the  manifest 
propriety  of  the  thing,  and  examples  of  good  men  in 
Scripture,  justify  us  in  insisting,  that  none  omit  their 
prayers  morning  or  evening,  who  have  not  thrown  ofi^ 
all  regards  to  piety.  But  secret  prayer  comprehends  not 
only  devotions  before  men  begin  and  after  they  have 
ended  the  business  of  the  day,  but  such  also  as  may  be 
performed  while  they  are  employed  in  it,  or  even  in 
company.  And  truly,  if,  besides  our  more  set  devotions, 
morning  and  evening,  all  of  us  would  fix  upon  certain 
times  of  the  day,  so  that  the  return  of  the  hour  should 
remind  us,  to  say  short  prayers,  or  exercise  our  thoughts 
in  a  way  equivalent  to  this  ;  perhaps  there  are  few  persons 
in  so  high  and  habitual  a  state  of  piety,  as  not  to  find  the 
benefit  of  it.  If  it  took  up  no  more  than  a  minute  or  two, 
or  even  less  time  than  that,  it  would  serve  the  end  I  am 
proposing ;  it  would  be  a  recollection,  that  we  are  in  the 
Divine  presence,  and  contribute  to  our  being  in  the  fear 
of  the  Lord  all  the  day  long, 

A  duty  of  the  like  kind,  and  serving  to  the  same 
purpose,  is  the  particular  acknowledgment  of  God  when 
we  are  partaking  of  his  bounty  at  our  meals.  The 
neglect  of  this  is  said  to  have  been  scandalous  to  a 
proverb  in  the  heathen  world  ;*  but  it  is  without  shame 
laid  aside  at  the  tables  of  the  highest  and  the  lowest  rank 
among  us. 

And  as  parents  should  be  admonished,  and  it  should 
be  pressed  upon  their  consciences,  to  teach  their  children 
their  prayers  and  catechism,  it  being  what  they  are 
obliged  to  upon  all  accounts;  so  it  is  proper  to  be 
mentioned  here,  as  a  means  by  which  they  will  bring  the 


*  Cudworth  on  the  Lord's  Snppf'r,p.  8.  Casaiib.  in  AUienaRum,  1.  i.  c.  xi.  p.  22. 
Duport.  Pral.  in  Theophrastum,  ed.  Needham,  c.  ix.  p.  335,  &:c. 


CLERGY  OF  DURHAM. 


279 


principles  of  Christianity  often  to  their  own  minds, 
instead  of  laying  aside  all  thoughts  of  it  from  week's-end 
to  week's-end. 

General  exhortations  to  piety,  abstracted  from  the 
particular  circumstances  of  it,  are  of  great  use  to  such 
as  are  already  got  into  a  religious  course  of  life;  but, 
such  as  are  not,  though  they  be  touched  with  them,  yet 
when  they  go  away  from  church,  they  scarce  know  where 
to  begin,  or  how  to  set  about  what  they  are  exhorted  to. 
And  it  is  with  respect  to  religion,  as  in  the  common 
affairs  of  life,  in  which  many  things  of  great  consequence 
intended,  are  yet  never  done  at  all,  because  they  may  be 
done  at  any  time,  and  in  any  manner ;  which  would  not 
be,  were  some  determinate  time  and  manner  voluntarily 
fixed  upon  for  the  doing  of  them.  Particular  rules  and 
directions  then  concerning  the  times  and  circumstances 
of  performing  acknowledged  duties,  bring  religion  nearer 
to  practice;  and  such  as  are  really  proper,  and  cannot 
well  be  mistaken,  and  are  easily  observed. — Such  parti- 
cular rules  in  religion,  prudently  recommended,  would 
have  an  influence  upon  the  people. 

All  this  indeed  may  be  called  form :  as  every  tiling 
external  in  religion  may  be  merely  so.  And  therefore 
whilst  we  endeavour,  in  these  and  other  like  instances, 
to  keep  up  the  form  of  godliness*  amongst  those  who  are 
our  care,  and  over  whom  we  have  any  influence,  we  must 
endeavour  also  that  this  form  be  made  more  and  more 
subservient  to  promote  the  power  of  it.*  Admonish  them 
to  take  heed  that  they  mean  what  they  say  in  tlieir 
prayers,  that  their  thoughts  and  intentions  go  along  with 
their  words,  that  they  really  in  their  hearts  exert  and 
exercise  before  God  the  aftections  they  express  with  their 
mouth.  Teach  them,  not  that  external  religion  is  nothing, 
for  tliis  is  not  true  in  any  sense;  it  being  scarce  possible, 
but  that  it  will  lay  some  sort  of  restraint  upon  a  man's 
morals;  and  it  is  moreover  of  good  effect  with  respect  to 
the  world  about  him.  But  teach  them  that  regard  to  one 
duty  will  in  no  sort  atone  for  the  neglect  of  any  otlier. 
Endeavour  to  raise  in  their  hearts  such  a  sense  of  God 
as  shall  be  an  habitual,  ready  principle  of  reverence, 

•  2  Tim.  111.  &. 


280 


CHARGE  TO  THE 


love,  gratitude,  hope,  trust,  resignation,  and  obedience. 
Exhort  them  to  make  use  of  every  circumstance,  which 
brings  the  subject  of  rehgion  at  all  before  them;  to  turn 
their  hearts  habitually  to  him;  to  recollect  seriously  the 
thoughts  of  his  presence  in  whom  they  live  and  move  and 
have  their  being j  and  by  a  short  act  of  their  mind  devote 
themselves  to  his  service.  —  If,  for  instance,  persons 
would  accustom  themselves  to  be  thus  admonished  by 
the  very  sight  of  a  church,  could  it  be  called  superstition? 
Enforce  upon  them  the  necessity  of  making  religion  their 
principal  concern,  as  what  is  the  express  condition  of  the 
gospel  covenant,  and  what  the  very  nature  of  the  thing 
requires.  Explain  to  them  the  terms  of  that  covenant 
of  mercy,  founded  in  th6  incarnation,  sacrifice,  and 
intercession  of  Christ,  together  with  the  promised 
assistance  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  not  to  supersede  our  own 
endeavours,  but  to  render  them  effectual.  The  greater 
festivals  of  the  church,  being  instituted  for  commemorat- 
ing the  several  parts  of  the  gospel  history,  of  course  lead 
you  to  explain  these  its  several  doctrines,  and  show  the 
Christian  practice  which  arises  out  of  them.  And  the 
more  occasional  solemnities  of  religion,  as  well  as  these 
festivals,  will  often  afford  you  the  fairest  opportunities 
of  enforcing  all  these  things  in  famihar  conversation. 
Indeed  all  affectation  of  talking  piously  is  quite  nauseous: 
and  though  there  be  nothing  of  this,  yet  men  will  easily 
be  disgusted  at  the  too  great  frequency  or  length  of  these 
occasional  admonitions.  But  a  word  of  God  and  religion 
dropped  sometimes  in  conversation,  gently,  and  without 
any  thing  severe  or  forbidding  in  the  manner  of  it,  tliis  is 
not  unacceptable.  It  leaves  an  impression,  is  repeated 
again  by  the  hearers,  and  often  remembered  by  plain 
well-disposed  persons  longer  than  one  would  think. 
Particular  circumstances  too,  which  render  men  more 
apt  to  receive  instruction,  should  be  laid  hold  of  to  talk 
seriously  to  their  consciences.  For  instance,  after  a 
man's  recovery  from  a  dangerous  sickness,  how  proper 
is  it  to  advise  him  to  recollect  and  ever  bear  in  mind, 
what  were  his  hopes  or  fears,  his  wishes  and  resolutions, 
when  under  the  apprehension  of  death;  in  order  to  bring 
liim  to  repentance,  or  confirm  him  in  a  course  of  piety. 


\ 


CLERGY  OP  DURHAM. 


281 


according  as  his  life  and  character  has  been.  So  Hkewise 
the  terrible  accidents  which  often  happen  from  riot  and 
debauchery,  and  indeed  almost  every  vice,  are  occasions 
providentially  thrown  in  your  way,  to  discourse  against 
these  vices  in  common  conversation,  as  well  as  from  the 
pulpit,  upon  any  such  accidents  happening  in  your  parish, 
or  in  a  neighbouring  one.  Occasions  and  circumstances 
of  a  like  kind  to  some  or  other  of  these  occur  often,  and 
ought,  if  I  may  so  speak,  to  be  catched  at,  as  opportunities 
of  conveying  instruction,  both  public  and  private,  with 
great  force  and  advantage. 

Public  instruction  is  absolutely  necessary,  and  can  in 
no  sort  be  dispensed  with.  But  as  it  is  common  to  all 
who  are  present,  many  persons  strangely  neglect  to 
appropriate  what  they  hear  to  themselves,  to  their  own 
heart  and  life.  Now  the  only  remedy  for  this  in  our 
power  is  a  particular  personal  application.  And  a  per- 
sonal application  makes  a  very  different  impression  from 
a  common,  general  one.  It  were  therefore  greatly  to  be 
wished,  that  every  man  should  have  the  principles  of 
Christianity,  and  his  own  particular  duty  enforced  upon 
his  conscience,  in  a  manner  suited  to  his  capacity,  in 
private.  And  besides  the  occasional  opportunities  of 
doing  this,  some  of  which  have  been  intimated,  there  are 
stated  opportunities  of  doing  it.  Such,  for  instance,  is 
confirmation:  and  the  usual  age  for  confirmation  is  that 
time  of  life,  from  which  youth  must  become  more  and 
more  their  own  masters,  when  they  are  often  leaving 
their  father's  house,  going  out  into  the  wide  world  and 
all  its  numerous  temptations;  against  which  they  par- 
ticularly want  to  be  fortified,  by  having  strong  and  lively 
impressions  of  religion  made  upon  their  minds.  Now 
the  Gist  canon  expressly  requires,  that  every  minister 
that  hath  care  of  souls  shall  use  his  best  endeavour  to 
prepare  and  make  able  as  many  as  he  can  to  be  confirmed ; 
which  cannot  be  done  as  it  ought  without  such  personal 
application  to  each  candidate  in  particular  as  I  am  recom- 
mending. Another  opportunity  for  doing  this  is,  when 
any  one  of  your  parisliioncrs  signifies  his  name  as  in- 
tending for  the  first  time  to  be  partaker  of  the  commmiion. 
The  rubric  requires,  that  all  persons,  whenever  they  intend 


282 


CHARGE  TO  THE 


to  receive,  shall  signify  their  names  beforehand  to  the 
minister;  which,  if  it  be  not  insisted  upon  in  all  cases, 
ought  absolutely  to  be  insisted  upon  for  the  first  time. 
Now  this  even  lays  it  in  your  way  to  discourse  with 
them  in  private  upon  the  nature  and  benefits  of  this 
sacrament,  and  enforce  upon  them  the  importance  and 
necessity  of  religion.  However  I  do  not  mean  to  put 
this  upon  the  same  foot  with  catechising  youth,  and 
preparing  them  for  confirmation;  these  being  indispen- 
sable obligations,  and  expressly  commanded  by  our 
canons.  This  private  intercourse  with  your  parishioners 
preparatory  to  their  first  communion,  let  it,  if  you  please, 
be  considered  as  a  voluntary  service  to  religion  on  your 
part,  and  a  voluntary  instance  of  docihty  on  theirs.  I 
will  only  add  as  to  this  practice,  that  it  is  regularly  kept 
up  by  some  persons,  and  particularly  by  one,  whose 
exemplary  behaviour  in  every  part  of  the  pastoral  office 
is  enforced  upon  you  by  his  station  of  authority  and 
influence  in  (this  part*  especially  of)  the  diocess. 

I  am  very  sensible,  my  brethren,  that  some  of  these 
things  in  places  where  they  are  greatly  wanted  are 
impracticable,  from  the  largeness  of  parishes,  suppose. 
And  where  there  is  no  impediment  of  this  sort,  yet  the 
performance  of  them  will  depend  upon  others,  as  well  as 
upon  you.  People  cannot  be  admonished  or  instructed 
in  private,  unless  they  will  permit  it.  And  little  will 
you  be  able  to  do  in  forming  the  minds  of  children  to  a 
sense  of  religion,  if  their  parents  will  not  assist  you  in 
it;  and  yet  much  less,  if  they  will  frustrate  your  endea- 
vours, by  their  bad  example,  and  giving  encouragement 
to  their  children  to  be  dissolute.  The  like  is  to  be  said 
also  of  your  influence  in  reforming  the  common  people 
in  general,  in  proportion  as  their  superiors  act  in  like 
manner  to  such  parents;  and  whilst  they,  the  lower 
people  I  mean,  must  have  such  numerous  temptations 
to  drunkenness  and  riot  every  where  placed  in  their 
way.  And  it  is  cruel  usage  we  often  meet  with,  in  being 
censured  for  not  doing  what  we  cannot  do,  without 
what  he  cannot  have,  the  concurrence  of  our  censurers. 
Doubtless  very  much  reproach  which  now  lights  upon 

♦  The  arclid' aroiiry  of  Northumberland. 


CLERGY  OF  DURHAM. 


283 


the  clergy  would  be  found  to  fall  elsewhere,  if  due 
allowances  were  made  for  things  of  this  kind.  But  then 
we,  my  brethren,  must  take  care  and  not  make  more 
than  due  allowances  for  them.  If  others  deal  unchari- 
tably with  us,  we  must  deal  impartially  with  ourselves, 
as  in  a  matter  of  conscience,  in  determining  what  good 
is  in  our  power  to  do:  and  not  let  indolence  keep  us 
from  setting  about  what  really  is  in  our  power;  nor  any 
heat  of  temper  create  obstacles  in  the  prosecution  of  it, 
or  render  insuperable  such  as  we  find,  when  perhaps 
gentleness  and  patience  would  prevent  or  overcome  them. 

Indeed  all  this  diligence  to  which  I  have  been  exhort- 
ing you  and  myself,  for  God  forbid  I  should  not  consider 
myself  as  included  in  all  the  gen^l  admonitions  you 
receive  from  me;  all  this  diligence  in  these  things  does 
indeed  suppose,  that  we  give  ourselves  icholhj  to  them. 
It  supposes,  not  only  that  we  have  a  real  sense  of  religion 
upon  our  own  minds,  but  also,  that  to  promote  the 
practice  of  it  in  others  is  habitually  uppermost  in  our 
thought  and  intention,  as  the  business  of  our  lives.  And 
this,  my  brethren,  is  the  business  of  our  lives,  in  every 
sense,  and  upon  every  account.  It  is  the  general 
busmess  of  all  Christians  as  they  have  opportunity:  it  is 
our  particular  business.  It  is  so,  as  we  have  devoted 
ourselves  to  it  by  the  most  solemn  engagements;  as, 
according  to  our  Lord's  appointment,  we  live  of  the 
gospel;*  and  as  the  preservation  and  advancement  of 
religion,  in  such  and  such  districts,  are,  in  some  respects, 
our  appropriated  trust. 

By  being  faithful  in  the  discharge  of  this  our  trust,  by 
thus  taking  heed  to  the  ministry  tee  hare  received  in  the 
Lord  that  we  fuljil  it,]  we  shall  do  our  part  towards 
reviving  a  practical  sense  of  religion  amongst  the  people 
committed  to  our  care.  And  this  will  be  the  securest 
barrier  against  the  efforts  of  infidelity;  a  great  source  of 
which  plainly  is,  the  endeavour  to  get  rid  of  religious 
restraints.  Rut  whatever  be  our  success  with  rroard  to 
others,  we  shall  have  the  approbation  of  our  corf^ciences, 
and  may  rest  assured,  that,  as  to  ourselves  at  least,  our 
labour  is  not  in  vain  in  the  Ijord.t 


1  Cor.  ix.  1 1. 


t  Col.  iv.  i: 


CORRESPONDENCE 


DR  BUTLER  AND  DR  CLARKE. 


THE  FIRST  LETTER, 

Reverend  Sir, 
I  SUPPOSE  you  will  wonder  at  the  present  trouble  from 
one  who  is  a  perfect  stranger  to  you,  though  you  are  not 
so  to  him;  but  I  hope  the  occasion  will  excuse  my 
boldness.  I  have  made  it,  sir,  my  business,  ever  since 
I  thought  myself  capable  of  such  sort  of  reasoning,  to 
prove  to  myself  the  being  and  attributes  of  God.  And 
being  sensible  that  it  is  a  matter  of  the  last  consequence, 
I  endeavoured  after  a  demonstrative  proof;  not  only 
more  fully  to  satisfy  my  own  mind,  but  also  in  order  to 
defend  the  great  truths  of  natural  religion,  and  those  of 
the  Christian  revelation  which  follow  from  them,  against 
all  opposers:  but  must  own  with  concern,  that  hitherto 
I  have  been  unsuccessful;  and  though  I  have  got  very 
probable  arguments,  yet  I  can  go  but  a  very  little  way 
with  demonstration  in  the  proof  of  those  things.  When 
first  your  book  on  those  subjects  (which  by  all,  whom  I 
liave  discoursed  vv^ith,  is  so  justly  esteemed)  was  recom- 
mended to  me,  I  was  in  great  hopes  of  having  all  my 
inquiries  answered.  But  since  in  some  places,  either 
through  my  not  understanding  your  meaning,  or  what 
else  I  know  not,  even  that  has  failed  me,  I  almost 
despair  of  ever  arriving  to  such  a  satisfaction  as  I  aim  at, 
unless  by  the  method  I  now  use.  You  cannot  but  know, 
sir,  that  of  two  different  expressions  of  the  same  thing, 
though  equally  clear  to  some  persons,  yet  to  others  one 
of  them  is  sometimes  very  obscure,  though  the  other  be 
perfectly  intelligible.  Perhaps  this  may  be  my  case 
here;  and  could  I  see  those  of  your  arguments,  of  which 
I  doubt,  differently  proposed,  possibly  I  might  yield  a 
ready  assent  to  them.    This,  sir,  I  cannot  but  think  a 


CORRESPONDENCE,  ETC. 


285 


sufficient  excuse  for  the  present  trouble ;  it  being  such  a 
one  as  I  hope  may  prevail  for  an  answer,  with  one  who 
seems  to  aim  at  nothing  more  than  that  good  work  of 
instructing  others. 

In  your  Demonstration  of  the  Being  and  Attributes  of 
God,  Prop.  VI.*  [edit.  2d.  pp.  69,  70,]  you  propose  to 
prove  the  infinity  or  omnipresence  of  the  self-existent 
Being.    The  former  part  of  the  proof  seems  highly 
probable;  but  the  latter  part,  which  seems  to  aim  at 
demonstration,  is  not  to  me  convincing.    The  latter 
part  of  the  paragraph  is,  if  I  mistake  not,  an  entire 
argument  of  itself,  which  runs  thus :  "  To  suppose  a 
finite  being  to  be  self-existent,  is  to  say  that  it  is  a 
contradiction  for  that  being  not  to  exist,  the  absence  of 
which  may  yet  be  conceived  without  a  contradiction; 
which  is  the  greatest  absurdity  in  the  world."  The  sense 
of  these  words  ["the  absence  of  which"]  seems  plainly 
to  be  determined  by  the  following  sentence,  to  mean  its 
absence  from  any  particular  place.    Which  sentence  is 
to  prove  it  to  be  an  absurdity;  and  is  this:  "  For  if  a 
being  can,  without  a  contradiction,  be  absent  from  one 
place,  it  may,  without  a  contradiction,  be  absent  from 
another  place,  and  from  all  places."    Now  supposing 
this  to  be  a  consequence,  all  that  it  proves  is,  that  if  a 
being  can,  without  a  contradiction,  be  absent  from  one 
place  at  one  time,  it  may,  without  a  contradiction,  be 
absent  from  another  place,  and  so  from  all  places,  at 
different  times;  (for  I  cannot  see,  that  if  a  being  can  be 
absent  from  one  place  at  one  time,  therefore  it  may, 
without  a  contradiction,  be  absent  from  all  places  at  tlie 
same  time,  i.  e.  may  cease  to  exist.)    Now,  if  it  proves 
no  more  than  this,  I  cannot  see  that  it  reduces  the 
supposition  to  any  absurdity.    Suppose  I  could  demon- 
strate, that  any  particular  man  should  live  a  thousand 
years;  this  man  might,  without  a  contradiction,  be  absent 
from  one  and  from  all  places  at  different  times;  but  it 
would  not  from  thence  follow,  that  he  might  be  absent 
from  all  places  at  the  same  time,  i.  c.  that  he  might  cease 
to  exist.    No;  this  would  be  a  contradiction,  because  I 
am  supposed  to  have  demonstrated  that  he  should  live  a 

♦  P.  45,  edit.  4;  p.  41,  rd  t.  n  ;  p.  43,  edit.  7  ;  p.  44,  edit.  8. 


286 


« 

CORRESPONDENCE  BETWEEN 


thousand  years.  It  would  be  exactly  the  same,  if, 
instead  of  a  thousand  years,  I  should  say,  for  ever ;  and 
the  proof  seems  the  same,  whether  it  be  applied  to  a 
self-existent  or  a  dependent  being. 

What  else  I  have  to  offer  is  in  relation  to  your  proofs 
that  the  self-existent  being  must  of  necessity  be  but  one. 
Which  proof  is  as  follows,  in  Prop.  VII.*  [edit.  2d.  p.  74.] 
"  To  suppose  two  or  more  different  natures  existing  of 
themselves,  necessarily,  and  independent  from  each  other, 
implies  this  plain  contradiction ;  that,  each  of  them  being 
independent  from  the  other,  they  may  either  of  them  be 
supposed  to  exist  alone ;  so  that  it  will  be  no  contradic- 
tion to  imagine  the  other  not  to  exist,  and  consequently 
neither  of  them  will  be  necessarily  existing."  The  sup- 
position indeed  implies,  that  since  each  of  these  beings  is 
independent  from  the  other,  they  may  either  of  them 
exist  alone,  i.  e.  without  any  relation  to,  or  dependence 
on,  the  other:  but  where  is  the  third  idea,  to  connect  this 
proposition  and  the  following  one,  viz.,  "  so  that  it  will 
be  no  contradiction  to  imagine  the  other  not  to  exist  ?" 
Were  this  a  consequence  of  the  former  proposition,  I 
allow  it  would  be  demonstration,  by  the  first  corollary  of 
Prop.  ni.+  [2d  edit.  p.  26.]  but  since  these  two  proposi- 
tions, ["  they  may  either  of  them  be  supposed  to  exist 
alone,"]  and,  ["  so  that  it  will  be  no  contradiction  to 
imagine  the  other  not  to  exist,"]  are  very  widely  different; 
since  likewise  it  is  no  immediate  consequence,  that 
because  either  may  be  supposed  to  exist  independent 
from  the  other,  therefore  the  other  may  be  supposed  not 
to  exist  at  all ;  how  is  what  was  proposed,  proved. ^  That 
the  propositions  are  different,  I  think  is  plain;  and 
whether  there  be  an  immediate  connexion,  every  body 
that  reads  your  book  must  judge  for  themselves.  I  must 
say,  for  my  own  part,  the  absurdity  does  not  appear  at 
first  sight,  any  more  than  the  absurdity  of  saying  that 
the  angles  below  the  base  in  an  isosceles  triangle  are 
unequal;  which  though  it  is  absolutely  false,  yet  I  suppose 
no  one  will  lay  down  the  contrary  for  an  axiom;  because, 
though  it  is  true,  yet  there  is  need  of  a  proof  to  make  it 
appear  so. 

*  p.  48.  edit.  4  ;  p.  44.  (hWL  G  ;  p.  46.  edit.  7  ;  p.  47.  edit.  8. 
t  P.  10,  17.  cdiL  4,  6,  7,  and  8. 


DR  BUTLER  AND  DR  CLARKE. 


287 


Perhaps  it  may  be  answered,  that  I  have  not  rightly 
explained  the  words,  "  to  exist  alone;"  and  that  they  do 
not  mean  only,  to  exist  independent  from  the  other ;  but 
that  "  existing  alone"  means  that  nothing  exists  with  it. 
Whether  this  or  the  other  was  meant,  I  cannot  determine : 
but,  which  ever  it  wa5,  what  I  have  said  will  hold.  For 
if  this  last  be  the  sense  of  those  words,  ["  they  either  of 
them  may  be  supposed  to  exist  alone;"]  it  indeed  implies 
that  it  will  be  no  contradiction  to  suppose  the  other  not 
to  exist:  but  then  I  ask,  how  come  these  two  proposi- 
tions to  be  connected ;  that,  to  suppose  two  different 
natures  existing  of  themselves  necessarily  and  independent 
from  each  other,  implies  that  each  of  them  may  be 
supposed  to  exist  alone  in  this  sense  ?    Which  is  exactly 
the  same  as  I  said  before,  only  applied  to  different 
sentences.    So  that  if  "  existing  alone"  be  understood  as 
I  first  took  it,  I  allow  it  is  implied  in  the  supposition; 
but  cannot  see  that  the  consequence  is,  that  it  will  be  no 
contradiction  to  suppose  the  other  not  to  exist.    But  if 
the  words,  "  existing  alone,"  are  meant  in  the  latter  sense, 
I  grant,  that  if  either  of  them  be  supposed  thus  to  exist 
alone,  it  will  be  no  contradiction  to  suppose  the  other  not 
to  exist:  but  then  I  cannot  see,  that  to  suppose  two 
different  natures  existing,  of  themselves,  necessarily  and 
independent  from  each  other,  implies  that  either  of  them 
may  be  supposed  to  exist  alone  in  this  sense  of  the  words  ; 
but,  only,  that  either  of  them  may  be  supposed  to  exist 
without  having  any  relation  to  the  other,  and  that  there 
will  be  no  need  of  the  existence  of  the  one  in  order  to 
the  existence  of  the  other.  But  though  upon  this  account, 
were  there  no  other  principle  of  its  existence,  it  mi2:ht 
cease  to  exist;  yet  on  the  account  of  the  necessity  of  its 
own  nature,  which  is  quite  distinct  from  the  other,  it  is  an 
absolute  absurdity  to  suppose  it  not  to  exist. 

Thus,  sir,  I  have  proposed  my  doubts,  with  the  reasons 
of  them.  In  which  if  I  have  wrested  your  words  to 
another  sense  than  you  designed  them,  or  in  any  respect 
argued  unfairlv,  I  assure  you  it  was  without  dcsij^n.  So 
I  Iiope  you  will  impute  it  to  mistake.  And,  if  it  will  not 
be  too  great  a  trouble,  let  me  once  more  beg  the  favour 
of  a  line  from  you,  by  which  you  will  lay  me  under  a 


28b  CORRESPONDENCE  BETWEEN 

particular  obligation  to  be,  what,  with  the  rest  of  the 
world,  I  now  am, 

Reverend  Sir,  your  most  obliged  servant,  &c. 

Nov.  4,  1713. 

THE  ANSWER  TO  THE  FIRST  LETTER, 

Sir, 

Did  men  who  publish  controversial  papers  accustom 
themselves  to  write  with  that  candour  and  ingenuity, 
with  which  you  propose  your  difficulties,  I  am  persuaded 
almost  all  disputes  might  be  very  amicably  terminated, 
either  by  men's  coming  at  last  to  agree  in  opinion,  or  at 
least  finding  reason  to  suffer  each  other  friendly  to  differ. 

Your  two  objections  are  very  ingenious,  and  urged 
with  great  strength  and  acuteness.  Yet  I  am  not 
without  hopes  of  being  able  to  give  you  satisfaction  in 
both  of  them.  To  your  first,  therefore,  I  answer: 
Whatever  may,  without  a  contradiction,  be  absent  from 
any  one  place,  at  any  one  time,  may  also,  without  a 
contradiction,  be  absent  from  all  places  at  all  times. 
For,  whatever  is  absolutely  necessary  at  all,  is  absolutely 
necessary  in  every  part  of  space,  and  in  every  point  of 
duration.  Whatever  can  at  any  time  be  conceived 
possible  to  be  absent  from  any  one  part  of  space,  may 
for  the  same  reason  [viz.  the  implying  no  contradiction 
in  the  nature  of  things]  be  conceived  possible  to  be 
absent  from  every  other  part  of  space  at  the  same  time; 
either  by  ceasing  to  be,  or  by  supposing  it  never  to  have 
begun  to  be.  Your  instance  about  demonstrating  a  man 
to  live  a  thousand  years,  is  what,  I  think,  led  you  into 
the  mistake;  and  is  a  good  instance  to  lead  you  out  of 
it  again.  You  may  suppose  a  man  shall  live  a  thousand 
years,  or  God  may  reveal  and  promise  he  shall  live  a 
thousand  years;  and  upon  that  supposition,  it  shall  not 
be  possible  for  the  man  to  be  absent  from  all  places  in 
any  part  of  that  time.  Very  true:  but  why  shall  it  not 
be  possible?  only  because  it  is  contrary  to  the  supposi- 
tion, or  to  the  promise  of  God;  but  not  contrary  to  the 
absolute  nature  of  things;  which  would  be  the  case,  if 
the  man  existed  necessarily,  as  every  part  of  space  does. 


DR  BUTLER  AND  DR  CLARKE. 


289 


In  supposing  you  could  demonstrate,  a  man  should  live 
a  thousand  years,  or  one  year;  you  make  an  impossible 
and  contradictory  supposition.  For  though  you  may 
know  certainly  (by  revelation  suppose)  that  he  will  live 
so  long.;  yet  this  is  only  the  certainty  of  a  thing  true  in 
fact,  not  in  itself  necessary:  and  demonstration  is  apph- 
cable  to  nothing  but  what  is  necessary  in  itself,  necessary 
in  all  places  and  at  all  times  equally. 

To  your  second  difficulty,  I  answer:  What  exists 
necessarily,  not  only  must  so  exist  alone,  as  to  be 
independent  of  any  thing  else;  but,  (being  self-sufficient) 
may  also  so  exist  alone,  as  that  every  thing  else  may 
possibly  (or  without  any  contradiction  in  the  nature  of 
things)  be  supposed  not  to  exist  at  all:  and  consequently 
(since  that  which  may  possibly  be  supposed  not  to  exist 
at  all,  is  not  necessarily  existent),  no  other  thing  can  be 
necessarily  existent.  Whatever  is  necessarily  existing, 
there  is  need  of  its  existence  in  order  to  the  supposal  of 
the  existence  of  any  other  thing;  so  that  nothing  can 
possibly  be  supposed  to  exist,  without  presupposing  and 
including  antecedently  the  existence  of  that  which  is 
necessary.  For  instance;  the  supposal  of  the  existence 
of  any  thing  whatever  includes  necessarily  a  presup})osi- 
tion  of  the  existence  of  space  and  time;  and  if  any  thing 
could  exist,  without  space  or  time,  it  would  follow  that 
space  and  time  were  not  necessarily  existing.  Therefore, 
the  supposing  any  thing  possibly  to  exist  alone,  so  as 
not  necessarily  to  include  the  presupposal  of  some  other 
thing,  proves  demonstrably  that  that  other  thing  is  not 
necessarily  existing;  because,  whatever  has  necessity  of 
existence  cannot  possibly,  in  any  conception  whatsoever, 
be  supposed  away.  There  cannot  possibly  be  any 
notion  of  the  existence  of  any  thing,  there  cannot 
possibly  be  any  notion  of  existence  at  all,  but  what  shall 
necessarily  ])reinchide  the  notion  of  that  which  has 
necessary  existence.  And  consequently  the  two  propo- 
sitions, which  you  judged  inde|)en(lent,  are  really 
necessarily  connected.  These  sorts  of  things  are  indeed 
very  difficult  to  express,  and  not  easy  to  be  conceived 
but  by  very  att(Mitive  minds:  but  to  such  as  can  and  will 

attend.  no!hin<r,  I  think',  is  iix^i'c  drr^ionsl !-;d)lv  (•()n\'ictive. 

r 


290 


CORRESPONDENCE  BETWEEN 


If  any  thing  still  sticks  with  you  in  this  or  any  other 
part  of  my  books,  I  shall  be  very  wilhng  to  be  informed 
of  it;  who  am,  Sir,  Your  assured  friend  and  servant, 

S.  C. 

Nov.  10,  1713. 

P.  S.  Many  readers,  I  observe,  have  misunderstood 
my  second  general  proposition ;  as  if  the  words  ["  some 
one  unchangeable  and  independent  being,"]  meant  [one 
only — being;]  whereas  the  true  meaning,  and  all  that 
the  argument  there  requires,  is,  [some  one  at  least.] 
That  there  can  be  but  one,  is  the  thing  proved  afterwards 
in  the  seventh  proposition. 


the  second  letter. 

Reverend  Sir, 
1  have  often  thought  that  the  chief  occasions  of  men's 
differing  so  much  in  their  opinions,  were,  either  their 
not  understanding  each  other;  or  else,  that,  instead  of 
ingenuously  searching  after  truth,  they  have  made  it 
their  business  to  find  out  arguments  for  the  proof  of 
what  they  have  once  asserted.  However,  it  is  certain 
there  may  be  other  reasons  for  persons  not  agreeing  in 
their  opinions:  and  where  it  is  so,  I  cannot  but  think 
with  you,  that  they  will  find  reason  to  suffer  each  other 
to  differ  friendly ;  every  man  having  a  way  of  thinking, 
in  some  respects,  peculiarly  his  own. 

I  am  sorry  I  must  tell  you,  your  answers  to  my  objec- 
tions are  not  satisfactory.  The  reasons  why  I  think 
them  not  so  are  as  follow. 

You  say,  "  AVhatever  is  absolutely  necessary  at  all  is 
absolutely  necessary  in  every  part  of  space,  and  in  every 
point  of  duration."  Were  this  evident,  it  would  cer- 
tainly prove  what  you  bring  it  for;  viz.  that  "  whatever 
may,  without  a  contradiction,  be  absent  from  one  place 
at  one  time,  may  also  be  absent  from  all  places  at  all 
times."  But  I  do  not  conceive,  that  the  idea  of  ubiquity 
is  contained  in  the  idea  of  self-existence,  or  directly 
follows  from  it;  any  otherwise  than  as,  whatever  exists 


DR  BUTLER  AND  DR  CLARKE. 


291 


must  exist  somewhere.  You  add,  Whatever  can  at 
any  time  be  conceived  possible  to  be  absent  from  any 
one  part  of  space,  may  for  the  same  reason  [viz.  the 
implying  no  contradiction  in  the  nature  of  things]  be 
conceived  possible  to  be  absent  from  every  other  part  of 
space,  at  the  same  time."  Now  I  cannot  see,  that  I 
can  make  these  two  suppositions  for  the  same  reason,  or 
upon  the  same  account.  The  reason  why  I  conceive 
this  being  may  be  absent  from  one  place,  is  because  it 
doth  not  contradict  the  former  proof  fdrawn  from  the 
nature  of  things],  in  which  I  proved  only  that  it  must 
necessarily  exist.  But  the  other  supposition,  viz.  that  I 
can  conceive  it  possible  to  be  absent  from  every  part  of 
space  at  one  and  the  same  time,  directly  contradicts  the 
proof  that  it  must  exist  somewhere;  and  so  is  an  express 
contradiction.  Unless  it  be  said,  that  as,  when  we  have 
proved  the  three  angles  of  a  triangle  equal  to  two  right 
ones,  that  relation  of  the  equality  of  its  angles  to  two 
right  ones  will  be  wherever  a  triangle  exists;  so,  w^hen 
we  have  proved  the  necessary  existence  of  a  being,  this 
being  must  exist  every  where.  But  there  is  a  great 
difference  between  these  two  things:  the  one  being  the 
proof  of  a  certain  relation,  upon  supposition  of  such  a 
being's  existence  w  ith  such  particular  properties ;  and 
consequently,  v/herever  this  being  and  these  properties 
exist,  this  relation  must  exist  too:  but  from  the  proof  of 
the  necessary  existence  of  a  being,  it  is  no  evident  con- 
sequence that  it  exists  every  where.  My  using  the  word 
demonstration^  instead  of  proof  which  leaves  no  room  for 
doubtj  was  through  negligence,  for  1  never  heard  of  strict 
demonstration  of  matter  of  fact 

In  your  answer  to  my  second  difhcidty,  you  say, 
"  Whatsoever  is  necessarily  existing,  there  is  need  of  its 
existence,  in  order  to  the  supposal  of  the  existence  of 
any  other  thing."  All  the  consequences  you  draw  from 
this  proposition,  I  see  proved  demonstrably;  and  con- 
sequently, that  the  two  propositions  I  thought  indepen- 
dent are  closely  connected.  But  how,  or  upon  what 
account,  is  there  need  of  the  existence  of  whatever  is 
necessarily  existing,  in  order  to  the  existence  of  any 
other  thing?  Is  it  as  there  is  need  of  space  and  duration, 


292 


CORRESPONDENCE  BETWEEN 


in  order  to  the  existence  of  any  thing;  or  is  it  needful 
onlv  as  the  cause  of  the  existence  of  all  other  thinsrs  ?  If 
the  former  be  said,  as  your  instance  seems  to  intimate: 
I  answer;  space  and  duration  are  very  abstruse  in  their 
natures,  and,  I  think,  cannot  properly  be  called  things, 
but  are  considered  rather  as  affections  which  belong,  and 
in  the  order  of  our  thoughts  are  antecedently  necessary, 
to  the  existence  of  all  things.  And  I  can  no  more 
conceive  how  a  necessarily  existent  being  can,  on  the 
same  account,  or  in  the  same  manner  as  space  and 
duration  are,  be  needful  in  order  to  the  existence  of  any 
other  being,  than  I  can  conceive  extension  attributed  to 
a  thought;  that  idea  no  more  belonging  to  a  thing  existing, 
than  extension  belongs  to  thought.  But  if  the  latter  be 
said,  that  there  is  need  of  the  existence  of  whatever  is  a 
necessary  being,  in  order  to  the  existence  of  any  other 
thing ;  only  as  this  necessary  being  must  be  the  cause  of 
the  existence  of  all  other  things:  I  think  this  is  plainly 
begging  the  question;  for  it  supposes  that  there  is  no 
other  being  exists,  but  what  is  casual,  and  so  not  necessary. 
And  on  what  other  account,  or  in  what  other  manner 
than  one  of  these  two,  there  can  be  need  of  the  existence 
of  a  necessary  being  in  order  to  the  existence  of  any 
thing  else,  I  cannot  conceive. 

Thus,  sir,  you  see  I  entirely  agree  with  you  in  all  the 
consequences  you  have  drawn  from  your  suppositions, 
but  cannot  see  the  truth  of  the  suppositions  themselves. 

I  have  aimed  at  nothing  in  my  style,  but  only  to  be 
intelligible ;  being  sensible  that  it  is  very  difficult  (as  you 
observe)  to  express  one's  self  on  these  sorts  of  subjects, 
especially  for  one  who  is  altogether  unaccustomed  to  write 
upon  them. 

I  have  nothing  at  present  more  to  add,  but  my  sincerest 
thanks  for  your  trouble  in  answering  my  letter,  and  for 
your  professed  readiness  to  be  acquainted  with  any  other 
difficulty  that  I  may  meet  with  in  any  of  your  writings. 
I  am  willing  to  interpret  this,  as  somewhat  like  a  promise 
of  an  answer  to  what  I  have  now  written,  if  there  be  a^y 
thing  in  it  which  deserves  one.  I  am,  Reverend  Sir, 
Your  most  obliged  humble  servant. 

Nov.  23,  1713. 


DR  BUTLER  AND  DR  CLARKE. 


293 


THE  ANSWER  TO  THE  SECOND  LETTER. 

Sir, 

It  seems  to  me,  that  the  reason  why  you  do  not  appre- 
hend ubiquity  to  be  necessarily  connected  with  self- 
existence,  is  because,  in  the  order  of  your  ideas,  you  first 
conceive  a  being  (a  finite  being,  suppose),  and  then 
conceive  self-existence  to  be  a  property  of  that  being ;  as 
the  angles  are  properties  of  a  triangle,  when  a  triangle 
exists:  whereas,  on  the  contrary,  necessity  of  existence, 
not  being  a  property  consequent  upon  the  supposition  of 
the  things  existing,  but  antecedently  the  cause  or  ground 
of  that  existence;  it  is  evident  this  necessity,  being  not 
limited  to  any  antecedent  subject,  as  angles  are  to  a 
triangle;  but  being  itself  original,  absolute,  and  (in  order 
of  nature)  antecedent  to  all  existence;  cannot  but  be 
every  where,  for  the  same  reason  that  it  is  any  where. 
By  applying  this  reasoning  to  the  instance  of  space,  you 
will  find,  that  by  consequence  it  belongs  truly  to  that 
substance,  whereof  space  is  a  property,*  as  duration  also 
is.  What  you  say  about  a  necessary  being  existing 
somewhere,  supposes  it  to  be  finite;  and  being  finite, 
supposes  some  cause  which  determined  that  such  a  certain 
quantity  of  that  being  should  exist,  neither  more  nor  less: 
and  that  cause  must  either  be  a  voluntary  cause;  or  else 
such  a  necessary  cause,  the  quantity  of  whose  power 
must  be  determined  and  limited  by  some  other  cause. 
But  in  original  absolute  necessity,  antecedent  (in  order 
of  nature)  to  the  existence  of  any  thing,  nothing  of  all 
this  can  have  place;  but  the  necessity  is  necessarily  every 
where  alike. 

Concerning  the  second  difficulty,  I  answer:  That 
which  exists  necessarily,  is  needful  to  the  existence  of 
any  other  thing  ;  not  considered  now  as  a  cause  (for  that 
indeed  is  begging  the  question),  but  as  a  sine  quo  non ; 
in  the  sense  as  space  is  necessary  to  every  thing,  and 
nothing  can  possibly  be  conceived  to  exist,  without 
thereby  presupposing  space:  which  therefore  I  apprehend 
to  be  a  property  or  mode  of  the  self-existent  substance; 

*  Or.  nude  of  t-xisU  iic  . 


294 


CORRESPONDENCE  BETWEEN 


and  that,  by  being  evidently  necessary  itself,  it  proves 
that  the  substance,  of  which  it  is  a  property,  must  also 
be  necessary ;  necessary  both  in  itself,  and*^  needful  to 
the  existence  of  any  thing  else  whatsoever.  Extension 
indeed  does  not  belong  to  thought,  because  thought  is  not 
a  being ;  but  there  is  need  of  extension  to  the  existence 
of  every  being,  to  a  being  which  has  or  has  not  thought, 
or  any  other  quality  whatsoever.        I  am.  Sir, 

Your  real  friend  and  servant. 

London^  Nov.  28,  1713. 


THE  THIRD  LETTER. 

Reverend  Sir, 
I  DO  not  very  well  understand  your  meaning,  when  you 
say  that  you  think,  "  in  the  order  of  my  ideas  I  first 
conceive  a  being  (finite  suppose)  to  exist,  and  then 
conceive  self-existence  to  be  a  property  of  that  being." 
If  you  mean  that  I  first  suppose  a  finite  being  to  exist  I 
know  not  why;  affirming  necessity  of  existence  to  be 
only  a  consequent  of  its  existence ;  and  that,  when  I  have 
supposed  it  finite,  I  very  safely  conclude  it  is  not  infinite; 
I  am  utterly  at  a  loss,  upon  what  expressions  in  my  letter 
this  conjecture  can  be  founded.  But  if  you  mean,  that 
I  first  of  all  prove  a  being  to  exist  from  eternity,  and 
then,  from  the  reasons  of  things,  prove  that  such  a  being 
must  be  eternally  necessary;  I  freely  own  it.  Neither 
do  I  conceive  it  to  be  irregular  or  absurd;  for  there  is  a 
great  difference  between  the  order  in  which  things  exist, 
and  the  order  in  which  I  prove  to  myself  that  they  exist. 
Neither  do  1  think  my  saying  a  necessary  being  exists 
somewhere,  suppose  it  to  be  finite;  it  only  supposes  tliat 
this  being  exists  in  space,  without  determining  whether 
here,  or  there,  or  every  where. 

To  my  second  objection,  you  say,  "That  which  exists 
necessarily,  is  needful  to  the  existence  of  any  other  thing, 
as  a  sine  qua  non;  in  the  sense  space  is  necessary  to 
every  thing:  which  is  proved  (you  say)  by  this  con- 
sideration, that  space  is  a  property  of  the  self-existent 
substance;  and  being  both  necessary  in  itself,  and  needful 


DR  BUTLER  AND  DR  CLARKE. 


295 


to  the  existence  of  every  thing  else;  consequently  the 
substance,  of  which  it  is  a  property,  must  be  so  too.'* 
Space,  I  own,  is  in  one  sense  a  property  of  the  self- 
existent  substance;  but,  in  the  same  sense,  it  is  also  a 
property  of  all  other  substances.  The  only  difference  is 
in  respect  to  the  quantity.  And  since  every  part  of 
space,  as  well  as  the  whole,  is  necessary;  every  substance 
consequently  must  be  self-existent,  because  it  hath  this 
self-existent  property.  Which  since  you  will  not  admit 
for  true ;  if  it  directly  follows  from  your  arguments,  they 
cannot  be  conclusive. 

What  you  say  under  the  first  head  proves,  I  think,  to 
a  very  great  probabiHty,  though  not  to  me  with  the 
evidence  of  demonstration:  but  your  arguments  under 
the  second  I  am  not  able  to  see  the  force  of. 
'  I  am  so  far  from  being  pleased  that  I  can  form 
objections  to  your  arguments,  that,  besides  the  satisfac- 
tion it  would  have  given  me  in  my  own  mind,  1  should 
have  thought  it  an  honour  to  have  entered  into  your 
reasonings,  and  seen  the  force  of  them.  I  cannot  desire 
to  trespass  any  more  upon  your  better  employed  time; 
so  shall  only  add  my  hearty  thanks  for  your  trouble  on 
my  account,  and  that  I  am  with  the  greatest  respect, 

Reverend  Sir, 
Your  most  obliged  humble  servant. 

Dec.  5,  1713. 


THE  ANSWER  TO  THE  THIRD  LETTER, 

Sir, 

Though,  when  I  turn  my  thoughts  every  way,  I  fully 
persuade  myself  there  is  no  defect  in  the  argument  itself; 
yet  in  my  manner  of  expression  I  am  satisfied  there  must 
be ,  some  want  of  clearness,  wlien  there  remains  any 
difficulty  to  a  person  of  yoiu'  abilities  and  sagacity.  I 
did  not  mean  that  your  saying  a  necessary  being  exists 
somewhere,  does  necessarily  suppose^  it  to  be  finite;  but 
that  the  manner  of  ex])ressi()n  is  apt  to  excite  in  the 
mind  an  idea  of  a  finite  being,  at  the  same  time  that  you 
are  thinking  of  a  necessary  ])cing,  witiiout  accurately 


29G 


CORRESPONDENCE  BETWEEN 


attending  to  the  nature  of  that  necessity  by  which  it 
exists.    Necessity  absolute,  and  antecedent  (in  order  of 
nature)  to  the  existence  of  any  subject,  has  nothing  to 
limit  it;  but,  if  it  operates  at  all  (as  it  must  needs  do), 
it  must  operate  (if  I  may  so  speak)  every  where  and  at 
all  times  alike.    Determination  of  a  particular  quantity, 
or  particular  time  or  place  of  existence  of  any  thing, 
cannot  arise  but  from  somewhat  external  to  the  thing 
itself.    For  example:  why  there  should  exist  just  such 
a  small  determinate  quantity  of  matter,  neither  more  nor 
less,  interspersed  in  the  immense  vacuities  of  space,  no 
reason  can  be  given.    Nor  can  there  be  any  thing  in 
nature,  which  could  have  determined  a  thing  so  indiffe- 
rent in  itself,  as  is  the  measure  of  that  quantity;  but  only 
the  will  of  an  intelligent  and  free  agent.    To  suppose 
matter,  or  any  other  substance,  necessarily  existing  in  a 
finite  determinate  quantity;  in  an  inch-cube,  for  instance; 
or  in  any  certain  number  of  cube-inches,  and  no  more; 
is  exactly  the  same  absurdity,  as  supposing  it  to  exist 
necessarily,  and  yet  for  a  finite  duration  only;  which 
every  one  sees  to  be  a  plain  contradiction.    The  argu- 
ment is  likewise  the  same,  in  the  question  about  the 
original   of  motion.      Motion  cannot  be  necessarily 
existing;  because,  it  being  evident  that  all  determinations 
of  motion  are  equally  possible  in  themselves,  the  original 
determination  of  the  motion  of  any  particular  body  this 
way  rather  than  the  contrary  way,  could  not  be  necessarily 
in  itself,  but  was  either  caused  by  the  will  of  an  intelli- 
gent and  free  agent,  or  else  was  an  effect  produced  and 
determined  without  any  cause  at  all;  which  is  an  express 
contradiction:  as  I  have  shown  in  my  Demonstration  of 
the  Being  and  Attributes  of  God.    [Page  14,  edit.  4th 
and  5th;  page  12,  edit.  6th  and  7th.] 

To  the  second  head  of  argument,  I  answer:  Space  is 
a  property  [or  mode]  of  the  self-existent  substance;  but 
not  of  any  other  substances.  All  other  substances  are 
in  space,  and  are  penetrated  by  it;  but  the  self-existent 
substance  is  not  in  space,  nor  penetrated  by  it,  but  is 
itself  (if  I  may  so  speak)  the  substratum  of  space,  the 
ground  of  the  existence  of  space  and  duration  itself. 
Which  [space  and  duration]  being  evidently  necessary. 


DR  BUTLER  AND  DR  CLARKE. 


297 


and  yet  themselves  not  substances,  but  properties  or 
modes,  show  evidently  that  the  substance,  without  which 
these  properties  could  not  subsist,  is  itself  much  more 
(if  that  were  possible)  necessary.  And  as  space  and 
duration  are  needful  (i.  e.  sine  qua  non)  to  the  existence 
of  every  thing  else;  so  consequently  is  the  substance,  to 
which  these  properties  belong  in  that  peculiar  manner 
which  I  before  mentioned.  I  am,  Sir, 

Your  affectionate  friend  and  servant. 

Dec.  10,  1713, 

THE  FOURTH  LETTER. 

Reverend  Sir, 
Whatever  is  the  occasion  of  my  not  seeing  the  force  of 
your  reasonings,  I  cannot  impute  it  to  [what  you  do] 
the  want  of  clearness  in  your  expression.  I  am  too  well 
acquainted  with  myself,  to  think  my  not  understanding 
an  argument,  a  sufficient  reason  to  conclude  that  it  is 
either  improperly  expressed,  or  not  conclusive;  unless  I 
can  clearly  show  the  defect  of  it.  It  is  with  the  greatest 
satisfaction  I  must  tell  you,  that  the  more  I  reflect  on 
your  first  argument,  the  more  I  am  convinced  of  the 
truth  of  it;  and  it  now  seems  to  me  altogether  unrea- 
sonable to  suppose  absolute  necessity  can  have  any 
relation  to  one  part  of  space  more  than  to  another;  and 
if  so,  an  absolutely  necessary  being  must  exist  every 
where. 

I  wish  I  was  as  well  satisfied  in  respect  to  the  other. 
You  say,  "  All  substances,  except  the  self-existent  one, 
are  in  space,  and  are  penetrated  by  it."  All  substances 
doubtless,  whether  body  or  spirit,  exist  in  space:  but 
when  I  say  that  a  spirit  exists  in  space,  were  I  put 
upon  telling  my  meaning,  I  know  not  how  I  could  do  it 
any  other  way  than  by  saying,  such  a  ])articnlar  quantity 
of  space  terminates  the  ca})acity  of  acting  in  finite  spirits 
lit  one  and  the  same  time;  so  that  they  cannot  act 
beyond  that  determined  (piautity.  Not  but  that  I  think 
there  is  somewhat  in  the  manner  of  existence  of  spirits 
in  respect  of  space,  that  more  directly  answers  to  the 
manner  of  the  exi.stence  of  bculv  ;  but  what  that  is,  or  of 


298  CORRESPONDENCE  BETWEEN 

the  manner  of  their  existence,  I  cannot  possibly  form  an 
idea.  And  it  seems  (if  possible)  much  more  difficult  to 
determine  what  relation  the  self- existent  Being  hath  to 
space.  To  say  he  exists  in  space,  after  the  same 
manner  that  other  substances  do  (somewhat  like  which 
I  too  rashly  asserted  in  my  last),  perhaps  would  be 
placing  the  Creator  too  much  on  a  level  with  the 
creature;  or  however,  it  is  not  plainly  and  evidently 
true:  and  to  say  the  self-existent  substance  is  the  sub- 
stratum of  space,  in  the  common  sense  of  the  word,  is 
scarce  intelligible,  or  at  least  is  not  evident.  Now 
though  there  may  be  a  hundred  relations  distinct  from 
either  of  these;  yet  how  we  should  come  by  ideas  of 
tliem,  I  cannot  conceive.  We  may  indeed  have  ideas 
to  the  words,  and  not  altogether  depart  from  the  common 
sense  of  them,  when  we  say  the  self-existent  substance 
is  the  substratum  of  space,  or  the  ground  of  its  existence: 
but  I  see  no  reason  to  think  it  true,  because  space  seems 
to  me  to  be  as  absolutely  self-existent,  as  it  is  possible 
any  thing  can  be:  so  that,  make  what  other  supposition 
you  please,  yet  we  cannot  help  supposing  immense 
space ;  because  there  must  be  either  an  infinity  of  being, 
or  (if  you  will  allow  the  expression)  an  infinite  vacuity 
of  being.  Perhaps  it  may  be  objected  to  this,  that 
though  space  is  really  necessary,  yet  the  reason  of  its 
being  necessary  is  its  being  a  property  of  the  self-existent 
substance ;  and  that  it  being  so  evidently  necessary,  and 
its  dependence  on  the  self-existent  substance  not  so 
evident,  we  are  ready  to  conclude  it  absolutely  self- 
existent,  as  well  as  necessary;  and  that  this  is  the  reason 
why  the  idea  of  space  forces  itself  on  our  minds,  ante- 
cedent to,  and  exclusive  of  (as  to  the  ground  of  its 
existence)  all  other  things.  Now  this,  though  it  is  really 
an  objection,  yet  is  no  direct  answer  to  what  I  have 
said:  because  it  supposes  the  only  thing  to  be  proved, 
viz.  that  the  reason  why  space  is  necessary  is  its  being 
a  property  of  a  self-existent  substance.  And  supposing 
it  not  to  be  evident,  that  space  is  absolutely  self-existent; 
yet,  while  it  is  doubtful,  we  cannot  argue  as  though  the 
contrary  were  certain,  and  we  were  sure  that  space  was 
only  a  property  of  the  self-existent  substance.  But 


DR  Btr'TLER  AND  DR  CLARKE. 


299 


now,  if  space  be  not  absolutely  independent,  I  do  not 
see  what  we  can  conclude  is  so:  for  it  is  manifestly 
necessary  itself,  as  well  as  antecedently  needful  to  the 
existence  of  all  other  things,  not  excepting  (as  I  think) 
even  the  self-existent  substance. 

All  your  consequences,  I  see,  follow  demonstrably 
from  your  supposition  ;  and,  were  that  evident,  I  believe 
it  would  serve  to  prove  several  other  things  as  well  as 
what  you  bring  it  for.  Upon  which  account,  I  should 
be  extremely  pleased  to  see  it  proved  by  any  one.  For, 
as  I  design  the  search  after  truth  as  the  business  of  my 
life,  I  shall  not  be  ashamed  to  learn  from  any  person; 
though,  at  the  same  time,  I  cannot  but  be  sensible,  that 
instruction  from  some  men  is  like  the  gift  of  a  prince,  it 
reflects  an  honour  on  the  person  on  whom  it  lays  an 
obligation.    I  am.  Reverend  Sir, 

Your  obliged  servant. 

Dec.  16,  1713. 


THE  ANSWER  TO  THE  FOURTH  LETTER. 

S.IR, 

My  being  out  of  town  most  part  of  the  month  of  January, 
and  some  other  accidental  avocations,  hindered  me  from 
answering  your  letter  sooner.  The  sum  of  the  difficulties 
it  contains  is,  I  think, this:  that  "it  is  difficult  to  deter- 
mine what  relation  the  self-existent  substance  has  to 
space:"  that  "to  say  it  is  the  substratum  of  space,  in 
the  common  sense  of  the  word,  is  scarce  intelligible,  or, 
at  least,  is  not  evident:"  that  "space  seems  to  be  as 
absolutely  self-existent,  as  it  is  possible  any  thing  can 
be:"  and  that  "its  being  a  property  of  the  self-existent 
substance  is  supposing  the  tiling  that  was  to  be  proved." 
This  is  entering  indeed  into  the  very  bottom  of  the 
matter;  and  I  will  endeavour  to  give  you  as  brief  and 
clear  an  answer  as  I  can. 

That  the  self-existent  substance  is  the  substratum  of 
space,  or  space  a  property  of  the  self-existent  substance, 
are  not  perhaps  very  j)roper  expressions;  nor  is  it  easy 
to  fmd  sucli.    But  what  I  mean  is  this:  The  idea  of 


300 


CORRESPONDENCE  BETWEEN 


space  (as  also  of  time  or  duration)  is  an  abstract  or 
partial  idea;  an  idea  of  a  certain  quality  or  relation, 
which  we  evidently  see  to  be  necessarily  existing ;  and 
yet  which  (not  being  itself  a  substance)  at  the  same  time 
necessarily  presupposes  a  substance,  without  which  it 
could  not  exist;  which  substance  consequently  must  be 
itself  (much  more,  if  possible)  necessarily  existing.  T 
know  not  how  to  explain  this  so  well  as  by  the  following 
simihtude.  A  bhnd  man,  when  he  tries  to  frame  to 
himself  the  idea  of  body,  his  idea  is  nothing  but  that  of 
hardness.  A  man  that  had  eyes,  but  no  power  of  motion, 
or  sense  of  feehng  at  all;  when  he  tried  to  frame  to 
himself  the  idea  of  body,  his  idea  would  be  nothing  but 
that  of  colour.  Now  as,  in  these  cases,  hardness  is  not 
body,  and  colour  is  not  body;  but  yet,  to  the  under- 
standing of  these  persons,  those  properties  necessarily 
infer  the  being  of  a  substance,  of  which  substance  itself 
the  persons  have  no  idea:  so  space  to  us  is  not  itself 
substance,  but  it  necessarily  infers  the  being  of  a  sub- 
stance, which  affects  none  of  our  present  senses;  and, 
being  itself  necessary,  it  follows,  that  the  substance, 
which  it  infers,  is  (much  more)  necessary.  I  am.  Sir, 
Your  affectionate  friend  and  servant 

Jan.  29,  1713. 

THE  FIFTH  LETTER. 

Reverend  Sir, 
You  have  very  comprehensively  expressed,  in  six  or 
seven  lines,  all  the  difficulties  of  my  letter;  which  I 
should  have  endeavoured  to  have  made  shorter,  had  I 
not  been  afraid  an  improper  expression  might  possibly 
occasion  a  mistake  of  my  meaning.  I  am  very  glad  the 
debate  is  come  into  so  narrow  a  compass;  for  I  think 
now  it  entirely  turns  upon  this,  whether  our  ideas  of 
space  and  duration  are  partial,  so  as  to  presuppose  the 
existence  of  some  other  thing.  Your  similitude  of  the 
blind  man  is  very  apt,  to  explain  your  meaning  (which 
I  think  1  fully  understand),  but  does  not  seem  to  come 
entirelv  up  to  the  matter.  For  what  is  the  reason  that 
the   blind  man  concludes  there  must  be  somewhat 


DR  BUTLER  AND  DR  CLARKE. 


301 


external,  to  give  him  that  idea  of  hardness  ?  It  is  because 
he  supposes  it  impossible  for  him  to  be  thus  affected, 
unless  there  were  some  cause  of  it;  which  cause,  should 
it  be  removed,  the  effect  would  immediately  cease  too; 
and  he  would  no  more  have  the  idea  of  hardness,  but  by 
rehiembrance.  Now  to  apply  this  to  the  instance  of 
space  and  duration :  Since  a  man,  from  his  having  these 
ideas,  very  justly  concludes  there  must  be  somewhat 
external,  which  is  the  cause  of  them;  consequently, 
should  this  cause  (whatever  it  is)  be  taken  away,  his 
ideas  would  be  so  too :  therefore,  if  what  is  supposed  to 
be  the  cause  be  removed,  and  yet  the  idea  remains,  that 
supposed  cause  cannot  be  the  real  one.  Now,  granting 
the  self-existent  substance  to  be  the  substratum  of  these 
ideas,  could  we  make  the  supposition  of  its  ceasing  to  be, 
yet  space  and  duration  would  still  remain  unaltered  : 
which  seems  to  show,  that  the  self-existent  substance  is 
not  the  substratum  of  space  and  duration.  Nor  would 
it  be  an  answer  to  the  difficulty,  to  say  that  every  pro- 
perty of  the  self-existent  substance  is  as  necessary  as  the 
substance  itself;  since  that  will  only  hold,  while  the 
substance  itself  exists ;  for  there  is  implied,  in  the  idea 
of  a  property,  an  impossibility  of  subsisting  without  its 
substratum.  I  grant,  the  supposition  is  absurd:  but  how 
otherwise  can  we  know  whether  any  thing  be  a  property 
of  such  a  substance,  but  by  examining  whether  it  should 
cease  to  be,  if  its  supposed  substance  should  do  so  ? 
Notwithstanding  what  I  have  now  said,  I  cannot  say 
that  I  believe  your  argument  not  conclusive ;  for  I  must 
own  my  ignorance,  that  I  am  really  at  a  loss  about  the 
nature  of  space  and  duration.  But  did  it  plainly  appear 
that  they  were  properties  of  a  substance,  we  should  have 
an  easy  way  with  the  atheists:  for  it  would  at  once 
prove  demonstrably  an  eternal,  necessary,  self-existent 
Being;  that  there  is  but  on(}  such;  and  that  he  is  need- 
ful in  order  to  the  existence  of  all  other  things.  Which 
makes  me  think,  that  though  it  may  be  true,  yet  it  is  not 
obvious  to  every  capacity:  otherwise  it  would  have  been 
generally  used,  as  a  fundamental  ar2:nm(Mit  to  prove  tlie 
being  of  God. 

I  must  add  one  thing  more;  lliat  VDur  argument  for 


302 


CORRESPONDENCE  BETWEEN 


the  omnipresence  of  God  seemed  always  to  me  very 
probable.  But  being  very  desirous  to  have  it  appear 
demonstrably  conclusive,  I  was  sometimes  forced  to  say 
what  was  not  altogether  my  opinion :  not  that  I  did  this 
for  the  sake  of  disputing,  (for,  besides  the  particular 
disagreeableness  of  this  to  my  own  temper,  I  should 
surely  have  chosen  another  person  to  have  trifled  with;) 
but  I  did  it  to  set  off  the  objection  to  advantage,  that  it 
might  be  more  fully  answered.  I  heartily  wish  you  as 
f^ir  treatment  from  your  opponents  in  print,  as  I  have  had 
from  you;  though,  I  must  own,  I  cannot  see,  in  those 
that  I  have  read,  that  unprejudiced  search  after  truth, 
which  I  would  have  hoped  for. 

I  am.  Reverend  Sir, 

Your  most  humble  servant 

Feb.  3,  1713. 

THE  ANSWER  TO  THE  FIFTH  LETTER. 

Sir, 

In  a  multitude  of  business,  I  mislaid  your  last  letter; 
and  could  not  answer  it,  till  it  came  again  to  my  hands 
by  chance.  We  seem  to  have  pushed  the  matter  in 
question  between  us  as  far  as  it  will  go ;  and,  upon  the 
whole,  I  cannot  bat  take  notice,  I  have  very  seldom  met 
with  persons  so  reasonable  and  unprejudiced  as  yourself, 
in  such  debates  as  these. 

I  think  all  I  need  say,  in  answer  to  the  reasoning  in 
your  letter,  is,  that  your  granting  the  absurdity  of  the 
supposition  you  were  endeavouring  to  make,  is  conse- 
quently granting  the  necessary  truth  of  my  argument. 
If*  space  and  duration  necessarily  remain,  even  after  they 
are  supposed  to  be  taken  away ;  and  be  not  (as  it  is  plain 
they  are  not)  themselves  substances ;  that  thet  substance, 

*  Ut  partinm  temporis  ordo  est  immutabilis,  sicetiam  ordopartium  spalii.  Movpfui- 
tur  hae  tie  locis  suis,  et  inovebuntur  (ut  ita  dicam)  de  seipsis.  Newton.  J'ri/uip. 
Mdthr.mat.  s  hoi.  ad  dejinit.  8. 

f  ])cus  non  est  aBternitas  vol  infinitas,  sed  ajtemns  et  infinitiis;  non  est  dnratio  vel 
spaLimn,  sed  dunit  et  adest.  Diirat  semper,  et  adest  ubique  ;  et  existendo  senii)er  et 
ub'fjiu^,  diiratioiieiu  et  si»atiuin,  aeteniilatein  et  iiifiiiiLateni,  constituit.  Cum  uiiaqua;qii*^ 
spuLii  partif:nla  sit  semper;  et  iinimuiiiodipie  diiratioiiis  iridivisibile  momentum  uliiipie; 
certe  reruui  omnium  Fabricator  ac  ])()n\inus  non  erit  nunquain  Musquam.  Omnipive- 
sens  est,  non  [)er  virtuU'm  solam,sed  eliam  p<'r  subsLantiam  :  nam  virtus  sine  subur^intia 
subsistere  non  potest.  In  ipso  continenLur  et  moveuMiif  "Jiiversa  &c.  Newton.  J'rinciu. 
Matf,^Mt.  Schol.  (jencrul.  anh  ^>'j'7n. 


DR  BUTLER  AND  DR  CLARKE. 


303 


on  whose  existence  they  depend,  will  necessarily  remain 
likewise,  even  after  it  is  supposed  to  be  taken  away: 
which  shows  that  supposition  to  be  impossible  and 
contradictory.  » 
»  As  to  your  observation  at  the  end  of  your  letter;  that 
the  argument  I  have  insisted  on,  if  it  were  obvious  to 
every  capacity,  should  have  more  frequently  been  used 
as  a  fundamental  argument  for  a  proof  of  the  being  of 
God:  the  true  cause  why  it  has  been  seldom  urged,  is, 
1  think,  this ;  that  the  universal  prevalency  of  Cartes's 
absurd  notions  (teaching  that  *  matter  is  necessarily 
infinite  and  necessarily  eternal,  and  ascribing  all  things 
to  mere  mechanic  laws  of  motion,  exclusive  of  final 
causes,  and  of  all  will  and  intelligence  and  divine  Provi- 
dence from  the  government  of  the  world)  hath  incredibly 
blinded  the  eyes  of  common  reason,  and  prevented  men 
from  discerning  him  in  whom  they  live,  and  move,  and  have 
their  being.  The  like  has  happened  in  some  other 
instances.  How  universally  have  men  for  many  ages 
believed,  that  eternity  is  no  duration  at  all,  and  infinity 
no  amplitude!  Something  of  the  like  kind  has  happened 
in  the  matter  of  transubstantiation,  and,  I  think,  in  the 
scholastic  notion  of  the  Trinity,  &c. 

I  am,  Sir, 
Your  aflfectionate  friend  and  servant. 

^pril  8,  1713. 

*  Puto  implicare  contradictionem,  ut  mundus  [meaning  the  material  world]  sit 
Ciiitus.    Cartes.  Epist.  69.  Partis  prima. 


THE  END. 


DATE  DUE 



1 

DEMCO  38-297 

